An Opening Match
by mlr96
Summary: It's been seven years since I left. Seven years since I saw John, Bobby, Sam and Dean. And I'm not expecting to see any of them again. Now, I'm joining the BAU, and I might need to come to terms with who I am. Diana "Chess" Winchester: SSA, Hunter and Dean's Twin sister. Part 1/4 on my Chess series. Will contain Spoilers for Supernatural seasons 1-2 and Criminal Minds seasons 1-3.
1. Begginings

**A/N:**** So... This story is my biggest project so far. It will have four parts, named An Opening Match, The Moves of the White Knight, A Threat on the Black Queen and Checkmate.**

**The story is about Diana "Chess" Winchester, daughter of John, big sister to Sam and Dean's twin. The story goes on from season one of BOTH shows, this part is seasons 1-2 of Supernatural, drifts into the beggining of 3 at Criminal Minds (Up until Gideon leaves).**

**At least at first, I'll post once a week, maybe later it will move to more often.**

**The story is not Beta'd, all mistakes are my own but I'm open to comments about it :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural nor Criminal Minds.**

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><p><strong>"All great beginnings start in the dark,<br>when the moon greets you to a new day at midnight."  
>Shannon L. Alder<strong>

The night was dark and silence. I was in my bed and dad read me a bedtime story about princesses while my mom took my twin brother Dean to say goodnight to our baby brother Sam. Dad finished the story and turned off the light but I stayed awake and waited for Dean to return.

I could hear his cry of joy – "Daddy!" – And parts of their conversation before mom said something and dad brought Dean to our room and put him in his bed.

Within moments, we were both asleep.

I woke up with a start to the sound of a scream followed by the sound of dad, yelling mom's name and running up the stairs.

"No! Mary!"

Dean and I jumped out of bed. I was startled from the flames and the smell of smoke. Dad was shouting and Sam was crying and we ran out to the hall just as dad did, holding Sam in his arms. Dad passed him to Dean and pushed us towards the stairs.

"Take your brother out as fast as you can. Don't look back." Dad said to us. "Now, guys, go!"

He turned back to the growl coming from Sammy's bedroom and Dean and I started running. I tripped and fell. Dean turned and was about to stop but I told him to get Sammy out.

The fire spread through the house and dad ran out of the room. When he saw me, he tried to pull me away but I was too scared to move so he picked me up and carried me away. He ran out of the house and saw Dean standing on the lawn and looking at the house with Sammy still in his arms. Dad lifted Dean up and dragged his three children away.

Just as we were away from the house, the windows blew out with a loud sound.

The rest of the night was a blur, but a single memory stuck to my mind even after years has passed: Dad sitting on his Impala, Dean clinging to him on his right and me on his left. In his arms, he holds Sam tightly and we are all looking at what used to be our house.

That was the memory that crossed my mind when I fought with him that day.

"I don't want this life! I just want to be normal!"

"Well, there's nothing normal you can get here, Dee, so you better leave!"

"You know what, John, maybe I will!"

I saw the pain flashing through his eyes, as it did every time I called him John in the past two years after I stopped calling him "Dad". Sammy was staring at the fight, scared but trying to hide it and Dean stood at the entrance to the motel room.

"Dean, take your brother outside, I need to talk to your sister." John said and Dean automatically obeyed, sending a worried glance at me as they left. I returned a smile and he seemed to relax a bit, but his eyebrows were still stiff and I knew he was worried. Once they were out, John spoke again.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked. "Why are you giving me such a hard time?"

"I'm giving you a hard time?" I asked, disbelieving. "You see me for like two days a year! You just make sure I stay at Bobby's and out of trouble and take the boys to God knows where!"

"I'm trying to keep you safe!" He said.

"Well, I don't want you to!" I paced around the room, annoyed. "I just went to the Roadhouse, to see Ash. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

"Just going to see Ash?" John asked. "I'm not an idiot, Diana, I know just what you two are doing in that back room and it was no researching. How did you even get there?"

"I live in a damn junkyard, John!" I yell. "Been fixing cars since I was ten, I just took a motorcycle and went for it!"

He stopped and looked at me with surprise and a hint of pride. "You fixed a Motor by yourself?"

"See! You don't even know me!" I raised my voice again and he stiffened.

"Why couldn't you just stay at Bobby's until you finish high school?" He asked.

"I _have_ finished high school, John!" I yelled. "Three weeks ago! I'm eighteen and a half!"

"So now what?" He asked. "You want to just go? Go to college or Harvard or whatever? Ditch us and disappear?"

"Do not dare put this on me!" I screamed. "You're the one who ditched me! You're the one who left me at Bobby's time after time after time."

"Don't do that, Diana." John said. "It's nothing like that."

"So why did you leave me there?" I asked. "Why did you take the boys and left me there every single time? Why the more I grew the less you came to see me?"

"Because hunting is not for girls!"

I looked at him for a couple of seconds. "I'm not good enough for you, is that it?" I asked. "Just because I'm a girl. Just because I'm not a macho man like you or Dean I worth less?"

"Dee, it's nothing like that –"

"Don't bother." I cut him off, picking up my things and heading for the door. "No one's listening."

"Dee, what are you doing?" John asked as I walked out the door. "Dee? Diana!" He stood at the entrance of the motel room. "Where are you going?" He asked.

"Away!" I called.

"How?"

"I don't know!" I turned and looked back at him. "And honestly, I don't care. I am done with this, with you. For good."

I ran out to the road and did not stop. I kept running for five or six miles before I pulled out my phone and called the first person I could think of.

"Ash, it's me."

"Babe, where are you? You left nearly twelve hours ago."

"Yeah, I had some…" I looked around me at the endless forest. "I had some family business to handle."

"Figured this much out."

I froze at my spot. "Ash. What did he do?"

"Nothing, babe. All's good."

"Ash, if you won't tell me I'll call Ellen and Jo and you can bet your pretty ass they'll tell me." I threatened. "Just spit it out."

"Well, he may have… punched me in the face."

"Oh my God!"

"I'm fine, babe, I'm okay."

"You are not okay, he punched you!"

"Look, I don't matter right now. What matters is the reason you came. You got a scholarship to Harvard, babe!"

"Look, it doesn't matter…" I mumbled.

"Sure it do, babe. You are going to Harvard and that is not a question." There were background sounds from the other end of the line and Ash cursed. "Damn, babe, I gotta go. Talk to ya later."

"Take care!" I called and he hung up. I started walking when a car approached me and a woman pulled over next to me.

"You need a ride?" she asked with a sweet smile.

"Yeah, I…" I hesitated for a moment about getting a ride with a stranger in the middle of nowhere. I decided I am too tired and too pissed to care. "I need to get to Massachusetts."

The woman smiled and I opened the door.

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><p>"We are going to get you guys through the last test!"<p>

FBI agents Hotchner and Gideon stood in front of the group of ten candidates applying to the BAU, nine boys with me the only girl. All of us were good enough to get this far and all of us knew we would get good positions once we're done with our training, but we all wanted to be profilers.

"Your mission is to find the Unsub responsible for those killings." Agent Gideon said. "The information is in those boxes. Remember you are a team. You have two hours. Go."

We ran and grabbed the boxes, lifting them to the table. We started spreading the pictures and papers across the tables and going through the information within. Four men who disappeared from parks where they sat with their kids and were found dead 2 days later, after their genitals were cut off while they were alive.

Everybody started shooting ideas to the air, trying to impress the agents.

"There is a lot of suppressed anger in this case; the Unsub might be seeing the victims as replacements to a person who hurt him."

"How do you know it's a 'him'? The Unsub could be a woman."

"A woman who can take out a grown man?"

"Don't take women so lightly, Brian. Chessi can take you out on a fight."

"She had." Someone smiled.

"You're missing the point here." I said angrily. "Andrew said something important and you weren't even listening."

The entire group looked at Andrew who shifted uncomfortably. "I was just saying that all of the kids were boys in the ages 4-7." He shrugged.

"And they weren't touched." I noted.

"So the Unsub might be seeing them as his younger self." Andrew finished.

"So the victims symbolizes his father." Brian said.

"If that's the case he might be going after his father next."

"So he is in danger."

From that point on, the case moved swiftly. Everybody took effort in catching the Unsub and everybody contributed to the effort.

"I heard that once, they didn't find anybody who they thought was qualified, so they didn't choose anybody." Christian said after we were dismissed with the promise that the BAU will make a decision by dinner.

"Maybe it will happen this year, too." Andrew said worryingly. "None of us made a big impact on them. We wouldn't've solved the case without each other."

"We probably could." Brian said. "It would just take us longer and we couldn't save the father."

"That's why team work's important." I said.

"I don't know." Andrew sighed. "I'd rather having one person who would solve the case and then we wouldn't be that stressed."

"And people might die." I retorted. "Well, you boys have fun. I'm gonna take a nap before dinner." I yawned and headed to my room. I looked at my night shed where a picture of Sam and Dean sitting on the Impala with me between them, all of us laughing.

The picture was taken about a month before I left. Bobby wanted to take a picture of us and Dean and I didn't want to, but Sam looked at us with those puppy eyes of his and we gave in. I decided if we are doing it, we should be doing it right, so I forced Dean to smile, it was so absurd Sam and I burst in laughter. The result of that was Dean frowning at the camera, Sam smiling, his eyes shining with joy and me in the middle, laughing so hard I held my stomach in pain and my hair fell on my face.

I was grateful for this picture now. I have changed so much in those seven years of studying Criminology and training to be an FBI agent, changes that only began with my short hair, which I cut on the first day of the Academy. Moreover, I have not seen Sam and Dean for so long I could not even start wondering how they might look by now.

Dean was probably taller and more grown, though not more mature. I wondered if he can ever be mature and decided that probably not, and even if I were wrong, I would not want to meet him all grown up.

Dean was a big child in all means: Trying to act older than he is, being cynical in order to solve problems, refusing to show emotions and in the desperate need of John's approval. And as weird as it might be to believe it, I loved it.

Sam was the opposite - a grown up stuck inside a child's body. What wouldn't I give to see how he will be like when he is a grown up in a grown up's body, but I knew it was not possible. After all this time, the mere thought of seeing my brothers again was only a dream.

The difference was that, in my dreams, I always knew I would see them.

You see, they weren't just dreams. They were… some people would call it prophecies, but is it one when what you dream of happens when you dream it? I knew my fair share of prophets and psychics, and even called one of them, an old friend of John (Which should show you how desperate I was) named Missouri Mosely.

She told me she doesn't know what those dreams are, but they're not prophecies. Nor is it just my imagination.

I headed to bed and had a dream of Dean driving the Impala. He was alone and I was worried. I knew Sam left about three years ago, leaving Dean alone with John, and that John occasionally sent him on solo hunts, and I was scared for my brother hunting without back up. He was alone for a couple of days now, for John was in a hunting trip, but he hadn't called in a while.

When my alarm clock rang, calling me for dinner, I stumbled out of my bed, worry clouding my mind.

I guess that is why I didn't hear when my name was being called.

"Chess!" A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped.

"Chill." Agent Thompson, my trainer here at the academy, told me. "I just wanted to let you know that you are needed tomorrow at Quantico at 1pm sharp."

"What?" I asked, confused. "Why?"

"Because there's a birthday party for you over there. Because the BAU wants you, brainless." He smiled at me. "I guess you didn't prove to be a total failure after all."

I looked at him, knowing that Thompson never means anything he says with a smile. He was harsh on me at first, but I grew on him and he grew on me. He learned that I will do anything to get what I want, and I learned that the insults are his way of pushing us over our limits into the wonders he believe we can do.

I wanted nothing more than to prove him I worth his trust, and I finally did.

"They do? What? Why?"

"Are you complaining?"

A smile jumped to my face. "Of course not! I just…" I hesitated. "What should I…"

"Say?" Thompson asked. "You'll figure something out."

I smiled mischievously. "I was going to say wear."

Thompson laughed. "Yeah, right." He said. "You'll wear what you always wear: Male cut jeans and shirt, one size too big. It's your hair you're gonna spend ages on."

"Hey!" I protested running my hand playfully through my pixie cut. "This doesn't look that good by itself."

"This doesn't look good, period." He replied. "I gotta go. Good luck tomorrow. Call me the minute you get an answer."

"Will do. Thank you so much for everything."

"Don't thank me yet." He warned and then smiled. "Thank me after you get the job tomorrow."

He ran away to one of the other agents and I was left there, feeling like I'm standing on the top of the world.

* * *

><p>I entered the FBI building in Quantico, Virginia and walked towards the elevator, heart beating fast in my chest.<p>

_This is a job interview._ I kept telling myself. _Just a job interview. Either I pass it, or I don't. One way or another, there is nothing I can do but be the best I can._

I put the earplugs in my ears and pressed the play button on my mp3 player. "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor started playing and I took comfort in the familiar tunes.

"It's the eye of the tiger,

It's the thrill of the fight.

Rising up to the challenge of our rival

And the last known survivor

Stalks his pray in the night,

And he's watching us all

With the _eyeeeee_ of the tiger!"

I looked up and saw a blonde woman standing next to me and trying her hardest not to laugh.

"Did I sang it out loud?" I asked, embarrassed.

"Yes." She replied, biting her lip.

"How bad was it?"

She laughed. "Pretty bad."

"Sorry." I said, truly meaning it but a smile plastered on my face. "I just do that sometimes to distract myself."

The elevator stopped and I walked out. To my surprise, so did the woman.

"You're here for the interview?" She asked.

"Yeah." I answered. "Do you happen to know where's agent Hotchner's office?"

"It's over there." She said, pointing at one of the offices in what appeared to be a second level to the floor. "Good luck."

"Thanks." I said, the smile falling off my face and the fear filling me again.

_Just a job interview._ I repeated to myself. _I can hunt a Vamp; I can get through a job interview._

I knocked on the door and heard a faint "Come in" before entering the room and closing the door behind me. The two agents from the day before were in the office. One of them sat in front of the table, and I guessed he was agent Hotchner. Guessed, because I blacked out entirely at that moment and couldn't remember my own name if I was asked. The other, agent Gideon, was lying on the couch, tossing a small ball into the air and landing in back into his fist.

"Sit down." Hotchner said, gesturing to the chair opposite to his and I walked ahead and sat, thanking God and anything that would listen I didn't fell down on my way.

"Agent-in-trainee Winchester –" Hotch begin but I cut him off.

"Chess." I said quickly and he looked up at me from what I assumed to be my file.

"It says Winchester." He said, his tone not entirely accusing but not entirely not. I had a feeling if I get the job, I will hear halves of tones a lot from him.

"It was when I joined the academy." I said. "Changed it. I don't use Winchester anymore."

"Why?" Gideon asked.

"Why don't I use my old name now that I changed it?" I asked.

"Why did you change it?"

"It didn't fit anymore." I replied. "I'm not a Winchester. I shouldn't use Winchester."

"Okay." Hotchner said, not entirely understanding. "Agent-in-trainee _Chess_, born January 24th, 1979, finished school at 18, and got accepted to Harvard shortly afterwards."

"Yes." I said.

"Why Harvard?"

"Why not?"

He looked at me. "Harvard is extremely expensive. You studied at a community high school in a small town at South Dakota. Why did you go to Harvard when you barely managed to pay your bills?"

"Because it was the only place where I could do a double degree in what I wanted to study." I replied.

"Linguistics and Religion." He read from the file. "Why those majors?"

"I knew many languages even before I went to Harvard, and wanted to use it for something, and Religion seemed like something interesting to learn."

"Are you coming from a religious home?" Hotchner asked.

"Quite the opposite, actually." I admitted.

"So you did it as an act of rebellion?"

"I did it because I wanted to." I said. "I was good at it and it turned out to be good for me, agent Hotchner. I'm not going to apologize for my choices."

"Fair enough." Hotchner said. "You have no record of family in your files. Are they deceased?"

"I'm not in contact with them anymore." I said. "Haven't spoken to them in seven years."

"Do you keep in contact with anybody from your life before Harvard?"

"Yes."

"Mind if I ask who?"

"An old friend from my teenage years." I said, biting back the smile that came from imagining what would be Ash's reaction to hearing that's how I phrased our relationship. We weren't dating anymore, but he was still more than just an old friend.

"This job is a very difficult one, agent Chess," Hotchner said, "I need to know you have a support system to help you."

"I do." I promised him and he nodded.

"Do you have any questions for us?" He asked.

I thought for a minute or so. "We were ten trainees at the last stage of the tests. All of us smart, all of us good, all of us qualified." I looked him in the eye, trying to trace lies in his answer. "Why me?"

"Why not?"

"I did nothing to attract your attention." I said. "At least not more than the others."

"Are you saying that we were wrong to pick you?" Hotchner asked.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled with this opportunity." I clarified, scared now that they might change their mind but in too deep to back off. "I just wonder why."

"What you said about Andrew." Hotchner said. "You told everyone to listen to what he has to say."

"So?"

"That was a major breakthrough in the case." Hotchner continued.

"So you should've gone with him." I said, even more confused. "Why me?"

"You didn't take credit for it." He finished and I looked at him, shocked.

"Why would I?" I asked. "He's the one who figured it out."

"If any of the others would be in your place, they would." Hotchner said.

"No, they wouldn't –"

"Yes, they would," Hotchner insisted. "You know it, we know it and they know it."

I shrugged. "What does it matters who figured it out? The important thing is that we did."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand." I said, frustrated. "What's your point?"

Hotchner leaned in and looked at me. "You get teamwork."

I stared at him. "Really?" I asked. "That's why you chose me? I get teamwork?"

"Our team is like a family." Hotchner said. "We get each other. We help each other. I needed someone who gets that dynamic in order to fit in and you seemed like the best choice."

"But _why_?"

"Why do you want to be in the BAU?" Gideon asked.

I turned to look at him. "Because you do an incredible job. You're saving people, you stop the bad guys."

"Everybody in the FBI do that. Why us?"

"Because serial killers don't stop until they're stopped." I said simply. "The people you put in jail, how many more would they kill if you didn't stop them? How many lives have you saved, without them knowing they are safe? People who can have lives, families, people around them, because of _you_."

"There." Gideon said. "You don't look for rewards. Saving people, stopping the murderers, that's your reward. That's why you don't mind the credit."

"You want to be in the BAU for all the right reasons." Hotchner added. "That's why we chose you and that's why I'm glad we did. Would you like to start today?"

"I… what?" I nearly didn't comprehend what he was saying. "I mean, yes! Yes, of course!"

"Alright." Hotchner's face shifted into something resembling a smile. "We have about thirty minutes to finish the paperwork before out Technical Analyst, Garcia, will detail us for our next case."

"You… you really want me?" I asked.

"Is it really that hard to believe?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I don't know." My face lit up with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Gideon said and I turned and smiled at him. "I'll be going now." He said. "Paperwork's not really my thing."

Hotchner nodded at him and Gideon left the room. He then turned to look at me.

"SSA Diana Chess, welcome to the BAU."

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><p><strong>Well, there it is, Chapter one... R&amp;R!<strong>


	2. In the Power of the Tongue

**A/N:**** So, I know I said I'll post once a week, but A. I wrote more than I thought I would this last three days and B. all the reviews and followers and favs made me wanna reward you.**

**~Reward!~**

**I wanted to comment on something AnimeWriterFreak wrote in the reviews - in this part, Dean and Sam will NOT be lead characters. They will be mentioned and the events that follow them will effect Diana, but she will not actually _talk_ to them.**

**In part 2 there will be Castiel and a bit of Cas/OC, in part 3 there will be a LOT of Cas/OC and she will finally talk to Dean and Sam more then "Cas, can you tel them somethingsomething. But don't say I told you that." and I haven't thought of part 4 yet, but they will have far more presence there.**

**Again, I would like to say how much I appriciate your reviews and hope you keep it that way!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Criminal Minds, or any songs mentioned.**

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><p><strong>"People know two languages: their native language and gibberish."<strong>

**Maribel C. Pagan**

"SSA Chess, I want you to meet SSAs Morgan, Reid, Greenaway and Jareau." Hotch said as we entered the conference room after finishing with my paperwork.

I looked around at them as he introduced them one by one.

Morgan was a good-looking dark skinned man. Too good-looking, the type that you can never comfortably be with for the fear of them cheating on you, simply because it's just so easy.

Reid was a nerdy type of person. His shirt was in his pants and he rose to shake my hand with a "Nice to meet you" and a smile that said he really means it.

Greenaway was a skinny woman with curly brown hair and a stern expression over her face, shadowing over the way she smiled at me. _Maybe after you get to know her she's better_, I thought to myself.

As for agent Jareau…

"We've met." She said, smiling at me and I wanted to bury myself somewhere no one will ever find me.

"At the elevator, right?" I asked, smiling politely.

"Yes." She replied and I could see from the amused look on her face she remember the incident just like me. "You can call me JJ, by the way."

I sat at the table, trying my hardest not to look as embarrassed as I felt, when Gideon entered the room and another blonde girl.

"Alrighty!" She said, walking in and uploading pictures on the big screen in the middle of the room. "We have a case in Hampton, Iowa, where three men at their early thirties were murdered." She gestured at the screen. "Timothy Abernethy, Jonathan Madoff and Christopher Brown were killed in broad daylight at small alleys."

"They were murdered in the middle of the workday," Elle said, "what did they work at?"

"A small company lawyer, a company manager and a mechanic." Hotch replied.

"So they all worked regular hours." I said. "If the murders were planned, the Unsub could easily follow them, study their routine and know when they're vulnerable."

Garcia stared at me. "You're the new girl." She said, more as a fact than anything else.

"Yeah, Diana Chess." I said. "Nice to meet you."

"It takes time to study someone's routine," Morgan said.

"The murders took place three days apart from each other." Gideon added. "That means the next victim is already being followed."

"Then we better hurry." Hotch said. "Wheels up in thirty."

Everybody nodded and got up and I was left the only one confused.

"Wheels up?" I asked.

"You didn't think we were driving all over the country, did you?" JJ asked. I did, but I thought I probably shouldn't mention it. "We have a jet."

"A jet?" I asked. I knew the BAU was highly budgeted, but I didn't know how much. I guessed they probably didn't sleep in trashy motels, too.

"Yes," Morgan said, "is that a problem?"

"No." I replied weakly. "Not at all."

* * *

><p>Actually, it was a problem. I just didn't figure out how much. I think maybe if I knew in advance that we travel by plane, I might've pass the BAU as my favorite work when we were requested to write them.<p>

Well, not really, but still. Travel by plane can be quite problematic when you have a fear of flights.

Ten minutes in the air and my knuckles were white from their grasp at the chair. We just finished the departure and everyone opened their seatbelts, but I stayed put.

"Why didn't you say you have a fear of heights?" Morgan asked with a smile.

"It's not a fear of heights," I said, closing my eyes. "It's a fear of flights."

"Why are you afraid of flights?" Elle asked.

"I just do, okay? Planes crush."

"Actually, the statistics on plane crushes indicates that –"

"Spence." JJ cut Reid off. "I think the last thing she needs is statistics on plane crushes."

I closed my eyes and started singing "Live and Let Die" by Guns n' Roses quietly to myself.

"You're singing?" Morgan asked.

"It calms me down when I'm nervous." I replied.

"That explains the elevator today." JJ laughed and I frowned.

"What happened at the elevator?" Elle asked but was interrupted by the beeping of the computer and the image of Garcia on it.

"Hello, my evil fighters." She said cheeringly. "I got the ME reports on the victims. All had a single gunshot to the chest, but at the first victim, Timothy Abernethy, the wound was not lethal and he died of blood loss."

"So the Unsub had no former knowledge of weapon handling." I said through gritted teeth. "He learned from experience and mistakes made with the first victims, and managed to aim and shoot lethal shots with the others."

"Actually, the second and third murders were made from near zero range." Reid said. "Look at the reports, there were burns on the chest area, right above the enter wound and the first victim didn't have them, but rather he had defensive wounds."

"So Abernethy tried to fight the Unsub and in order to make sure that doesn't happen again, the Unsub shoots the other victims from a closer range, guaranteeing they will die immediately." Hotch said.

"That still doesn't explain how the Unsub managed to lure them into the ally." Elle noted. "All three men were in good physical state."

"And it doesn't explain how the Unsub chooses his victims." Gideon said. "What do they have in common?"

"Were they married?" Morgan asked Garcia.

"Abernethy was married with three, Madoff had a girlfriend and Brown was a ladies' man. No long term relationships."

"Singles have more chances to be murdered by a stranger while at married people it is often someone they know." Reid contributed.

"Who would enter an alley with a stranger?"

"Maybe the Unsub waited for them in there."

"Who would enter an alley, period?"

"Alright." Hotch cut the conversation off. "When we land, Elle and Gideon go to the ME office. Chess and Morgan, you go to the last murder scene and Reid and JJ, you come to the station with me."

Morgan nudged my arm. "I guess you're stuck with me." He said playfully.

"Yeah, whatever." I said and leaned back in my seat, remembering song lyrics and losing myself into the music in my head.

* * *

><p>The flight ended what felt like ages later, but was really less than an hour. I was the first off the plane and no one can understand how happy I was to have both my feet on solid ground again.<p>

"If you're so scared of flights, how do you move around?" Morgan asked as we entered a black SUV.

"How everybody does – by car." I replied. "You know, the normal way."

"For most people, travel big distances by car is _not_ the normal way." Morgan laughed. "So, what's your story?"

"My story?"

"You know, why are you here, what made you choose this kind of work." He shrugged. "Those kind of stuff."

"I don't know…" I shrugged. "What's your story?"

"I asked first." He said with a smile and I smiled right back.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"Well, my dad was a cop. Officer Patrol and all and one day when I was eight, two other officers came home and told us he was killed in duty." Morgan looked at the road all the time he spoke and I remembered Dean at the times he drove the Impala. "My mom always told me I became the man of the house that day, I needed to look after my sisters. But I didn't. I was stupid and I made stupid choices until I got a good chance to get out of the life. My juvenile records were sealed, I got on a basketball scholarship to a good collage and worked my way up from there." He turned and looked at me. "Your turn."

If I knew he was going to reveal so much about himself, I wouldn't have asked him to. I remembered Hotch saying the team is like a family, but I didn't expect to be accepted to the family so soon.

With hunters, you need to prove yourself for things like that.

"Well, my mom died when I was four from a fire." I started. I knew if I'm going to tell him about me, censure must be applied. "My dad took it pretty hard. He took me and my brothers and moved around most of the time, until I was twelve."

"What happened when you were twelve?"

"I don't know. He just dropped me off at his friend's house and I stayed there. He came back," I clarified, "my brothers stayed with him and Sa- the younger one always asked to see me so they came back every couple of weeks but mainly, I stayed there. And I did not like it. I ran away, I did stupid things, I got into trouble to attract his attention and told him the most terrible things and as time passed he came less and less." I sighed, remembering. "Eventually, I ended up like you. I saw the chance in doing well at school, got a scholarship to Harvard, juvenile records sealed and worked my ass off ever since."

"Are you still keeping in touch with your family?" Morgan asked.

"I haven't spoken to them since the day I left for Harvard." I replied.

"Wow." He said. "That bad?"

"It wasn't bad." I said. "At least… not all of it. Life with my family had its good parts, but it also had the bad parts and they just…" I trailed off.

"Shadowed it?"

"Outnumbered it."

"Did it affect you that much?" Morgan asked.

I didn't reply.

We arrived at the scene and got out of the car.

"There aren't any signs of struggle," I said, going into Fed-Mode, "at least not visible ones."

"So the theory was correct," Morgan said, "They entered the alley voluntarily."

"But it's more than simply that." I shrugged. "There aren't signs of struggle, at all. Who would not try to fight back when their lives are threatened?"

"Maybe they didn't think they would win?" He suggested. "Then again, the first victim fought back."

"So the unsub waited until they were entirely inside the alley to attack." I said.

"And killed them immediately."

I suddenly saw a struggle going on behind Morgan, where one of the officers tried to pull back a screaming kid.

"Ela o matou!" The kid said. "Ela o matou!"

"What's going on here?" I asked.

"I don't know." Another officer replied. "He just came here and started shouting all this nonsense."

"Ela o matou!" The kid kept repeating. "Ela o matou!"

I ran towards them. "Let him go." I told the police officer.

"Do as she says." Morgan said and the officer looked at him before doing as told.

"Ela o matou!" The kid said, clinging on to me and crying "Ela o matou!"

"Respira..." I said, "Inspira... E expira... Otimo, respire fundo." _Relax… breath in… and out… good, deep breaths._ I waited until he stopped crying. "Você pode me dizer o que aconteceu?" I asked. _Can you tell me what happened?_

"A mulher ... Ela o matou …" _The woman… She killed him."_

"Quando foi isso?" _When was it?_

"Ontem." _Yesterday._

I sighed. "Como é que ela se parece?" _How does she looks like?_

* * *

><p>"We're dealing with a woman, about 30-40 years old, 5'7 and with short brown hair." Morgan said as we walked into the police station and bumped into Greenaway and Gideon, who just returned, and Reid, who held a cup of coffee.<p>

"Isn't it a bit too soon to make a profile?" Reid asked him.

"Usually it is, but magic girl here speak Portuguese." He replied. "She noticed some kid walking around the scene and questioned him. Apparently he saw the whole thing."

"It wasn't that hard to notice him." I said. "He screamed 'Ela o matou' over and over again."

"But nobody but you knows what the hell that means."

"How did you know what that means?" Greenaway asked and I remembered Hotch calling her Elle earlier, on the jet.

"She had a degree in languages." Gideon said.

"Really?" Morgan asked and I nodded shyly. I still had it deep into me not to attract attention to myself, even after all those years since I stopped hunting.

"Wow." Said Elle. "Impressive."

"Actually, the fact that our Unsub is a woman makes sense." Reid asked and I silently thanked him from drawing everyone's attention away from me. "In our interviews with the victims' families, we found out that all three men had commitment issues."

"Commitment issues?" I asked.

"They cheated." Hotch replied, walking towards us. "A lot. Let's get everyone together, I think we're ready to deliver a profile."

"Our Unsub is a woman, around mid-thirties who avenge in what she believe to be the name of all women who had been in relationships with unfaithful partners."

"She has probably gone through a rough break up as the result of her partner cheating on her. She wants to take back at him, but can't: maybe he is out of town, maybe she can't see him. Both ways, he is the real target of her anger, and she takes that anger out on the men around her."

"She doesn't target her victims randomly – she probably met them and later seen them in pubs or bars, hitting on women which turned her anger towards them."

"This type of Unsubs don't stop killing. She is on a never-ending vendetta and she won't ever stop. Therefore, it is very important to catch her, as soon as we can. Thank you."

* * *

><p>I sat late at night at the police station, re-reading Jose's, the little kid, testimony. When my phone rang.<p>

"Chess." I said, picking up.

"Hello there, Dee!" Garcia said cheerfully.

I flinched at the sound of my old nickname, one I hadn't heard in years.

"I don't really like nicknames." I lied.

"Well, I'm not gonna keep calling you 'Diana', or 'Chess'." She replied. "We need to find you a nickname! Which one will it be?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

"Come on." She said. "You must have had a nickname. What was your nickname at the academy?"

"Well, some people called me Chessi but-"

"And Chessi it is!" I could almost see her smile, ear to ear.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked her.

"It's either Chessi or Dee." She replied.

"Fine. Chessi." I sighed. "Why did you call?"

"I just wanted to talk to you, get to know you and all."

"I don't really do the whole 'get to know you' and all." I said.

"So how do you get to know people?" She asked.

"I just… wait a moment." I replied as a woman walked into the police station. "Hi, can I help you?"

"They said I'm delousing." She said. "They said I imagine those filths as people who did wrongs. They called them 'Victims'. They're not the victims here."

"Garcia, I'm going to have to call you back." I said, slightly worried. "Send my regards to everyone."

"What? Chessi, what's going on?"

I hung up the phone and put it at the table, my eye catching the gun in the woman's hand.

"_They_ are not the victims!" The woman repeated. "_They_ did this to themselves. They were… Lying scums."

"I know they did –" I started, walking towards her.

"No!" She called. "Stay where you are!"

"Okay, I'm staying here." I quickly said, stopping. "See, I'm here. What's… What's your name?"

"Joanna," she said, "Joanna Winters.

"That's nice." I said. "I have a friend named Joanna. We like to call her Jo."

A smile slipped on Joanna's lips. "Only my mom calls me Jo."

"What's her name?" I asked.

"Andrea."

"Andrea." I managed to smile. "That's a pretty name. I'm Diana. It's… It's very nice to meet you."

"Are you one of them?" She asked suspiciously.

"One of who?" I asked.

"One of the know-it-all FBI smartasses." She retorted.

"Yeah, I'm with the Feds." I said and she hit the gun's drum, still pointing it at me.

"You… you said I'm crazy."

"We never said you're crazy, Joanna." I said.

"'Mentally Unstable'" Joanna quoted. "You called me crazy."

"We never meant that. What…" I took a deep breath. _Why didn't I pull my gun?_ "What we meant was that it ain't make sense killing those men."

"It made perfect sense!" She screamed. Behind her I saw Morgan and Hotch entering the station. "They deserved it! The deserved getting punished!"

"That isn't up to you to decide. They could've been good people under all of that crap."

"They weren't!" Joanna screamed. "All cheaters are lying manipulative scums who deserve to die!"

"That ain't true," I said, "I was dating the cutest, most considerate guy ever. He really was good. And he… he cheated on me. I was mad at him for a couple of months until I realized nothing worth that. All this anger, Joanna, it ain't worth it. Let it go, let _him_ go. It's still not too late. Put the gun down 'fore more people can get hurt."

"It's still not too late?" Joanna asked desperately.

"It ain't never too late." I said. "Put the gun down, Joanna. Just… put it down."

She let go of the gun and I took a deep breath. Hotch ran towards her and put her in handcuffs. "Joanna Winters, you are under arrest for the murders of Timothy Abernethy, Jonathan Madoff and Christopher Brown. You have the right to remain silence –"

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm… getting there." I smiled slightly. "Garcia understood my message."

"To 'send your regards'? Yeah." He smiled, too. "Couldn't come up with something stupider?"

"Let's see how well you're doing when a killer's threatening 'ya." I said.

"And what's up with the accent?" He laughed.

"Am I…?" I laughed a bit. "Remember me saying I sing when I'm nervous? So when I'm in it real bad, I get an accent."

"Well, the jet back to Virginia will probably be in less than an hour, so I suggest you'll relax by then." He said and I shrugged. "Don't worry." He smiled. "We'll go to the bar later to drink down all your sorrows."

"Sounds like a plan to me." I said.

The smile drifted off his face. "The story…" He started

"About my Ex?" I asked. "Real story."

"How did it ended?" He asked.

"I forgave him." I said.

"And…?"

"And he's my best friend." I said. "He's like a brother to me now."

"Gross." Morgan said.

"Not really." I said, smacking his arm lightly. "Family don't end with blood. Let's go. We have a plane to catch."

* * *

><p>"I don't believe you really own a Ducati." Morgan said after we settled in a bar near Quantico.<p>

"A '71 Scrambler." I said proudly.

"How did you get your hands on one?"

"I found a wrecked one and fixed it." I replied.

"How old were you?" Elle asked.

"Seventeen."

"That is so cool!" Garcia said. "Do you really have a degree in languages?"

"A double major in languages and religion." I replied mindlessly.

"Wow." JJ said. "And you're 25?"

"Don't be so impressed." I said. "It's nothing compared to Mr. Genius you've got there." I marked at the bar where Reid was waiting for our drinks.

"Still impressive." Elle said. "How many languages do you know?"

"Ten in total." I said.

"Which ones?"

"I'll tell you what," I leaned in my chair. "If you guess them all right, I buy your drinks tonight. If not, you buy mine. Three strikes and I'm winning."

"That sure of yourself, are you?" Garcia asked with a smile.

"You're not playing." I replied and she frowned.

"What? Why?" She complained.

"Because I bet you did your research on me already." I said and she smiled knowingly.

"Alright," Morgan said. "10 languages, three mistakes, loser buys the drinks?"

"Loser_s_." I corrected with a smile and the game began.

"You know English and Portuguese, as we learned today." He said.

"And Spanish." Liz added.

"You did one of your majors in religion," Spencer added, "so I'd say Latin, Hebrew and Arabic, because it is known it's better to read those texts in the origin language, and not translation."

"Got the first six quite easy," I said and then silence fell.

"German?" Morgan hesitated.

"Nice." I said casually.

"Russian?"

"Strike one!" Garcia called and I couldn't hide my smile at that.

"Korean."

"Come on, Reid." Elle said.

"Close, but no." I smiled.

"Japanese?" Reid tried.

"Yup." I said. "You really should've tried that before Korean."

"I have no idea, Finnish?" Morgan sighed and I looked at him with surprise.

"I did _not _think you'd guess that one." I said and they looked shocked.

"Wait," Elle said, looking at Garcia, "seriously?"

"Afraid so, fellas." Garcia replied.

"Do you think they'll guess the last two?" I asked her.

"With only one mistake left?" She shrugged. "If they do, I join you on paying their drinks."

"Come on, baby girl." Derek smiled. "Have some faith."

"I do, my chocolate thunder, but you have absolutely no chance."

"Are they always like that?" I asked, glancing at the other three who sat by the table.

"You better get used to it." Elle smiled.

"We know it's going to be a hard one." Reid said. "So we can overrule most of the largely spoken languages."

"Not French, then." JJ said.

"Not Brazilian or Italian." Morgan added.

"I think I'll guess..." Elle thought for a moment. "Czech. Are everybody okay with Czech?"

The people around the table nodded then turned to look at Garcia and myself. We exchanged glances before a smile rose to my lips.

"Strike three and you're out!" Garcia called and our fellow agents sighed.

"You're buying my drinks tonight, and I warn you, I'm quite the drunk." I smiled viciously. "When I want to."

"Gimme money, I'm buying tequila!" Garcia said and headed for the bar.

"What languages did we miss?" Reid asked.

"And could we really not guess them?" Morgan added.

"You tell me." I smiled. "Ancient Greece and ancient Egyptian."

They all looked at each other.

"There was no way I would've guessed that." JJ said.

"You and me both, Sister." Elle sighed and then looked at me. "How do you even learn ancient languages?" She asked.

"If you have enough motivation and know the right people, everything's possible." I replied simply.

"How do you know people who speak fluent Greece?" Morgan asked, devastated.

"I'm full of surprises and secrets, agent Morgan," I said, fake flirting with him. "I'd love to see you try and uncover them."

He looked at me, definitely annoyed, when Garcia came back with our drinks.

"Here's to Diana Chess!" She said, raising her glass. "The newest member of the BAU family!"


	3. Scar Tissue

**A/N:****So... I'm writing this story way faster than I thought I would... And way faster than I probably should, considering my physics grade...**

**But, in the meanwhile, Sunday came and I can officially tell you I will be posting every Sunday and Wednesday.**

**So here's today's chapter, I hope you'd like it, and remember, reviews make us happy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><strong>"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds'. I do not agree.<strong>

**The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity,**

**Covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.**

**But it is never gone."**

**Rose Kennedy**

"She won't tell us anything about herself!" I heard Elle say.

"Cut her some slack." Garcia said. "She probably didn't had the best childhood."

I stood in the hall and tried to decide when will be the best time for me to step in and stop this conversation.

"Morgan, you said she told you her story on her first day, right?" Reid asked.

"She barely told me anything." Morgan replied.

"Besides, it was nearly three months ago!" JJ said.

Now. Now's the time.

"Hi, guys." I said, walking into the corridor they were talking at. "What's up?"

"Everything's great." Garcia said.

"Now that you're here, I can brief you on your next case." JJ said.

As if it was a code word, everybody quickly left the corridor, leaving me with only Reid for company.

"Was it something I said?" I asked.

"No, it's just…" He sighed. "They had a rough couple of days."

"Tell me about it." I mumbled.

Over the last couple of months since I joined the BAU, my dreams were not only clearer, but also more intense and arrived more frequently. And it was terrible. I saw Sam go back to hunting and the boys fight all kind of creatures, but the worst of it was when the boys went to a case in Lawrence.

There was a spirit hunting our old house, and while fighting it, Dean and Sam saw Mom's ghost. She told them she loves them and to take care of themselves, and she told them to find me. When the boys asked Missouri about it, she told them I was still alive and that she talked to me a couple of times.

I woke up in the hotel room I was sharing with JJ on the case, crying silently. Like the boys didn't have enough on their mind, like Jess and Dad and Yellow eyes. The last thing they needed was to be worried about me.

But, of course, when I called Missouri, she gave me the whole 'They deserve to know you're alive, girl and it's not like you're telling them you are' speech, which gave me enough guilt feelings for a lifetime.

Add that to my lack of sleep (Seeing a Wendigo in your dreams doesn't really help maintaining a good sleeping habits), the stress of my work (Though no serial killers threatened me since the first case. At least not when I didn't a gun on me) and the general worry about Dean and Sam (Of course my brothers are hunters, they couldn't have been accouters or anything with a desk) and you get a recipe for disaster.

For me, all days are a 'rough couple of days'.

Reid and I walked into the conference room, where everybody else were already seated.

"Lindy Robbins, Sasha Alexie and Jinnah Marven." JJ began. _Wait… why do I feel like I've heard those names before? _"The three girls were murdered in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the last couple of days." _Oh. That's why. _"Last night, Marie Gonzales was murdered, too. All three women were found with their throats cut and all were in town for the Sioux High Reunion, graduates of –"

"1997." I whispered and Gideon looked at me. No one else seemed to notice.

"– 1997." JJ finished.

Behind her, Gideon raised a brow.

"The Unsub is progressing quickly." Reid said. "Four deaths in less than a week."

"We better head off, then." Hotch said. "Wheels up in 15."

"Chess." Gideon said. "You're with me."

I sighed and followed him to the parking lot, looking longingly at my Motor before getting into his car.

"What did I do?" I asked when he entered, too.

"Sioux Falls High." He said. "Class of '97 and a reunion."

"The case details," I said, directly ignoring the point he was trying to make. "So what?"

"'So what' is the wrong question." Gideon replied.

"What's the right question?" I asked, confused.

"Why aren't you going?"

I sighed. "Bad food and people I hate," I said, "why would I go?"

"Fair point." He said. "But why are you really not going?"

"I told you why." I replied.

"You told me a part of the truth." He insisted. "You're hiding something."

I looked at him, angry and tired of the games he play.

"No." I lied. "I don't."

* * *

><p>"Alright." Hotch said a couple of hours later when we got off the plane. "Gideon, JJ and Elle, you're going to the victim's houses. Morgan and Reid – the ME office and Chess, you and I are going to the police station."<p>

It was the first case Hotch told me to go to the police station right away and I knew something was fishy.

"Seriously?" I asked. "I'm benched?"

"You are not benched –" Gideon started.

"You talked to him?" I asked him. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're mad at me for not being able to read me, aren't you? You're mad 'cause I don't sit around and share my whole life story with you when we don't know crap 'bout your life –"

"Enough." Hotch's voice was sharp and angry. "You are going to the police station. This is not up for debate. And next time you question mine, Gideon or any of our judgments due to personal reasons, - you are off the team. Are we clear?"

A vision of John being upset over me after the first time I ran away and disappeared on Booby flashed before my eyes. Suddenly, I was not twenty-five but fifteen and it was him I saw in front of me, rather than Hotch.

"Yes, sir." I said through gritted teeth, as I did so many times with John, but kept eye contact. I knew I was pushing the line but I also knew I'm too stubborn to give up. Too proud.

"Car." Hotch said. "Now."

"Yes, sir." I repeated, opening the door of the nearest SUV and entering, not looking at any of the other team members as I did.

He walked around and entered the car. "Despite what you may think, I'm not a complete moron."

"I never said you were –"

"Quiet. I talk. You listen." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I noticed the name from your file. Sioux Falls High? The one you learned at. I suppose it's also where you lived, at least during your high school years. You recognized the names, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir." I replied, too angry to care for his attempts to be nice.

"Who were they?" He asked.

"You're thinking high-school vendetta, aren't you?" I asked. "Won't work. Robbins and Alexie were Snob-Bitches, but Marven was a total Geek and Gonzales was one of the Freaks. Different high-school economy groups."

"What group were you?"

"None." I said coldly. "Nobody wanted me."

He sighed. "I wanted you to come with me because the cops might be a bit more cooperative if they're working with someone they're familiar with."

"Wouldn't count on it if I were you." I mumbled.

"Why not?" He asked, confused.

"Because." I said.

"Diana, I'm trying to help you –"

"Don't pull that shit on me, Hotch." I said angrily. "Don't give me the whole 'I'm on your side' crap. And even if you are," I added, "_don't_ try to help me. I don't need your pity, I can take care of myself."

"You're being childish."

"Well, maybe that's just me." I announced just as we arrived the police station. I stormed out of the car and entered the police station without looking, bumping into an auburn haired woman and spilling her coffee on the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I said and then looked up at her. "Jody?" I asked in disbelief.

"Hi, Dee." Jody said with a smile. "Don't mind that, lousy coffee anyway. Are you here for Bobby?"

"I, no, actually I'm here with –"

"Sherriff Mills." Hotch greeted Jody as he walked in. "I'm SSA Hotchner, I see you've met SSA Chess."

"_Sherriff_?" I asked in disbelief. "Oh, Jody, congratulations!"

"Look who's talking, _Agent_!" She replied. "Glad to know you came out alright in the end. Gosh, I hadn't seen you in _years_!"

"Yeah, I…" I mumbled shyly, "I moved for Harvard…"

"Good for you!" She said with such honesty in her voice I couldn't help but smile. "Are you here with the BAU?"

"Yes, we're…" I stopped. "You said something 'bout Bobby?"

"He got himself arrested yesterday." Jody replied. "Dead drunk around the neighborhood and mumbling nonsense about Jinnah's murder."

I sighed. This day just gets worst as it goes on.

"Balls."

* * *

><p>"The last murder was last night." I said. "<em>After<em> Bobby was arrested."

"I know." Mills replied.

"So why is he still in custody?"

We were in the kitchen at Sioux Falls Police Department. Hotch was leaning against a counter, Jody was sitting on the table and I was walking back and forth in front of them. I knew Reid and Morgan shouldn't take much longer to arrive and I really wanted to get Bobby out and home before they would meet him.

"Officially?" Jody asked. "We suspect he has a partner."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Bobby?" I asked. "Have you met him? Bobby doesn't _do_ partners."

"Why not?" Hotch asked.

"Bobby is…" Jody shrugged. "He's…"

"He's not well with… People." I said.

"And?"

"You'll get it once you meet him. And besides," I turned to Jody, "Bobby will never do something like that. What's the unofficial reason?"

"We're trying to find out what he knows." Jody said. "And in order for that to be reliable, we need him to sober up."

I froze at my spot. "_Sober up_?" I asked in disbelief. "You want a _sober_ Bobby?"

"Is that really that odd?" Hotch asked."

"You want a sober Bobby in the middle of a _police station_?"

"Well, yes, I do." Jody retorted. "Got a problem with it?"

"No, I don't." I replied. "But you should. Do you _want_ him uncooperative? Do you _want_ him angry and pissed up? You've never seen a sober Bobby, Jody and trust me, you don't want to."

"Is he really that bad when he's sober?" Hotch asked.

"So now what?" I asked, ignoring his questions. "You think he'll be nicer when he's sober? He won't. Trust me. And maybe that would've been a good idea but now we've got a better solution."

"And what is that?" Jody asked.

"Me." I said. "He'll talk to me."

"Who will?" Morgan asked and I turned to see him and Reid at the doorway.

"It doesn't matter." Hotch said. "Chess, you're off the case."

"I wish I could've said getting benched twice in the same day was a first." I said angrily.

"You're too involved."

"You're…" I started, then remembered what happened at the airport. "Hotch, please."

"He's right, Dee." Jody said. "You can't be on this one."

"If you're…" I started then stopped again. "You can't… Imagine it was you." I said. "Imagine it was your…" I trailed off, looking at Reid and Morgan who were still listening.

"My what?" Hotch asked. "Because I don't understand your relationship and, frankly, I think if I would I would only pull you further away."

"Jody." I said, begging. "You have to let me talk to him." I turned to Hotch again. "Please. I need to at least talk to him. Let it be in the interrogation room if you'd like."

"I'm sorry." Jody said. "I really am, Dee, but it's not in my hands."

Hotch turned to leave the room and I panicked.

"I'll go as his lawyer."

The words jumped from my mouth and I knew it was a bad idea but I was too desperate to care.

"I'll go as his lawyer if I have to." I repeated and Hotch turned to look at me. "I'll go as his lawyer and you couldn't use a word of what he'll say to me on the case."

Hotch looked at me harshly. "Bring him to interrogation room 1." He told Jody. "You will enter, you will talk to him. And in the end of this case, you are off the team."

"But not until the end." I said.

"Jackson!" Jody called out to one of the officers who passed the door. "Bring Singer to room 1."

Hotch turned to look at Reid and Morgan for the first time since they arrived.

"Morgan, you're going with her."

"So I have a babysitter now?"

"Yes." He replied coldly. "And if I were you I'd be happy that's all I do and keep my mouth shut before I change my mind."

"I'm going to room 1." I said as a reply. "Brief him before he comes."

"It would be helpful if I knew how." Hotch said.

"I'll brief them all." Jody said. "Don't you want to stay? I think you can do this better than me."

"I think I'll pass." I said. I always hated to see the pity on their eyes.

I walked and sat in the interrogation room, looking at my hands. Soon enough, I got up and started pacing around. Seven years with no goodbye. No calls, no anything. As far as he knew, I'm dead. He's gonna hug me and give me a wash, not necessarily that order.

I looked up for a moment to see Morgan walking in but avoided his gaze, afraid to see what I will meet there.

"Chessi…" He started, walking towards me and I turned away from him, looking at the one-sided mirror.

We stood there for a minute or so before the door opened and an officer brought Bobby in. I looked through the mirror as the officer handcuffed him to the table. Bobby looked up at Morgan.

"Glad to see they brought new blood." He said. "Don't think I ever saw a black cop in here."

"I'm not a cop." Morgan said. "SSA Derek Morgan. FBI."

"Feds?" Bobby said. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"To the four dead women in town."

"Four?" Bobby looked genuinely surprised. "That's new. Who's your friend?"

I observed him in the mirror. Someone who doesn't know him would most likely think he is alright. He was joking, laughing and communicative. But I saw straight through his act and noticed the circles under his eyes, the dried blood in his fingernails who matched the scratches in his palm and the way his jaw trembled, just the tiniest bit.

It was the dreadful combination of rehab symptoms and nightmares that kept him awake after years of hunting, and it was heartbreaking for me to see him like that.

I turned around and faced him.

"Hi, Uncle Bobby."

He looked at me, shocked. "Peanut?" He asked in disbelief. "Is that you?" A smile rose to his face in a desperate attempt to hide just how broken he was. "How's Darlin'?"

I smiled. "I have no idea how you know I still have her." I said.

"Come on, Peanut, I thought you learned years ago." He looked at me, expecting me to finish the sentence.

"Bobby knows everything." I said.

"Damn right I do." He said and I laughed.

I walked towards and sat by the desk, taking his hands in mine as I did. "How're you doing?" I asked.

His smile faded for a moment before being plastered back, slightly more fragile this time. "I'm great, Peanut."

"How long since your last drink?"

His smile fell. "I'm handling it." He said.

"No you're not." I said. "You never could, Bobby. I remember all the times with the key."

"It's different this time." He insisted.

"You stubborn ol' man." I said. "Just tell us what you know and we will let you go, you can go home to your stacks of beers and this will be over."

"You still dress the same." Bobby said.

"Stop changing the subject!" I raised my voice. "Bobby, I'm trying to help you. I'm on your side here. I'm losing my job in order to help you, don't let it be for nothing."

"You're losing your job?" Bobby asked. "Damn, girl, why are you such an idjit sometimes?"

"I'm an idjit?" I asked. "You're the one who got himself arrested! Tell me, how's rehab? You're so damn busy trying to make it seems like all's alright that you hurt yourself! Had the nightmares started yet? What are you dreaming of? Karen? Rufus? John and Dean and Sam?"

"No."

I shook my head. "I don't believe you."

"I didn't dream of them because I dream of you, Diana! Dead in an alley! Being gutted by Lord knows what, being raped!" He pulled his hands out of mine and we both stood up at once. Morgan stepped forward but I marked him not to interfere. "Seven years, Dee! Seven _friggin'_ years with no phone call, letter or anything to let me know you're still alive after you told me you're going to town and disappeared for damn hours. And I called John and said I'm worried because I didn't think you'll be so damn stupid to go to Ash. And then, after hours, your _real _ol' man arrives at my doorstep and says you ran away. And friggin' blames me for it. He took the boys away, Dee, I haven't seen them, too! And I wouldn't care because I keep tabs on the roadhouse and I'd know if anything happened but you're off the friggin' radar! After all I've done for you after how hard I tried to be better for you. You cut me off and I need to hear about it from damn John! So cut the crap, Dee, 'cause I don't give a friggin' damn about any of it."

At a certain point during that speech, tears started falling silently on my cheeks. I turned to the door and got out, seeing Jody, Hotch and Reid waiting for me.

"Here's a sober Bobby for you." I said, choking on the tears in my throat. "Happy now?"

Without waiting for a reply, I ran out the door and away, finally allowing myself to cry.

* * *

><p>I reentered the police station nearly an hour later and headed straight towards the interrogation room. I stepped inside and saw Hotch trying to make Bobby talk.<p>

"Move." I said.

"Chess." Hotch said.

"I'm losing my job for this, Hotch," I replied, "I'm sure as hell not gonna waste it."

He looked at me before stepping back and standing at the back of the room, observing my actions carefully. With one swift movement, I reached into the grocery bag I was holding and pulled out a six-pack of beer.

"You talk, you drink." I told Bobby. "Those are the rules. Only worth information works, ol' man. I'm sick and tired of playing games."

He reached out to take a beer but I pulled them out of his reach.

"The rules were clear." I said. "First question: what were you doing wandering around in the town?"

Bobby gritted his teeth.

"Do you know who the murderer is?"

He still didn't reply.

"Do you have an idea for a connection between the victims?" I tried.

"Yes." Bobby looked at our surprised faces. "Beer."

I frowned and pulled a beer out of the pack, handing it over. He opened it with the corner of the desk and chugged nearly half of it with one swing, and the other half with another.

"Next question." He said.

"What's the connection?" Hotch asked.

"They were all bullies in high school." Bobby said and I pulled a beer and handed it over to him.

"Marven was a Nerd." I said. "And Gonzales a Freak."

"Is that a question?" Bobby asked.

"Yes."

"They bullied anyone not in their clique." Bobby said. He was drinking the beers so quickly that even though the questions came in rather quickly, he still managed to finish one before I handed him the other.

"There was only three cliques in the school." I said, starting to understand.

"Who was bullied by all three of them?" Hotch asked.

"Someone who wasn't at any clique." Bobby and I replied together.

Hotch raised a brow. "That was you." He said, half-accusingly.

"Yes, it was." I said.

"But not only you." Bobby said. "Are you gonna let me out now?"

"One more question." Hotch said. "Who else?"

"Josef Loren." Bobby said and the dots connected in my brain.

It was the beginning of Freshman Year. I was new to the school, having insisted to Bobby and John that homeschooling won't last me long, no matter what they think. I arrived, the weirdo kid who lives at the town's drunk and wears boy clothes two sized too big, but nobody paid me attention. Everybody were too busy bullying Josef.

He came from a family of immigrants who moved in a couple of years back, and with his weird accent and family, he was an easy target to pick. Even the Freaks, at the bottom of the high-school food chain, bullied him. But on the third day of school, I decided I've had enough.

John came back from a hunting trip a couple of hours' drive away to pick me up from the principal's office. He led me to the car with a stern look on his face, ignoring my black eyes and bruised knuckles and was quiet all the drive to Bobby's. I stepped out of the car, expecting him to do the same, but he just drove off, leaving me once again.

The next day I returned to school and found myself at the bottom of the food chain. Once I attracted attention to myself, the kids found out who was I and where I was living, and I was legitimate prey.

That was the beginning of my high-school nightmare.

"But they stopped picking on him." I said. "They moved to me after I punched that stupid jock at the beginning of Freshman Year."

"Are you blind, girl?" Bobby asked. "From that point on, the kid was in love with you. He even made it clear that he hated me, because he was sure I was the reason they were bullying you."

"He's not on a personal vendetta." Hotch said. "He thinks he brings justice in your name."

He headed for the door and I followed closely after, walking into where the team was waiting with Jody and called Garcia.

"Josef Loren, poor kid, ran to the States with his family after drug barons in Mexico threatened his father's life. Doesn't have any long-term relationship, couldn't hold a job and still lives at his deceased parent's house, I'm texting you the address… now."

I ran outside but Hotch stopped me.

"You can't come." He said.

"I know, I'm not on the team, but the case is still not over." I said. "Let me finish this right."

"It's not that, Chessi. Loren brings justice in your name. Who knows what he will do if he doesn't get your approval. He could turn violent and you'll be first on the line of fire." I looked at Hotch and saw he's truly worried for me. "Reid." He said. "You're staying with her."

Reid nodded and we watched as the rest of our team walked out.

We passed the time being somewhat bored and occasionally talking about our childhoods. Spencer understood me far more than I thought he would, having his father leaving him, too, and I understood his need to take care of his remained family, having taken care of Dean and Sammy when we were left alone. By the time the team came back with Loren in handcuffs, he turned the closest thing to a friend I ever had.

"Let me see her!" Loren yelled. "You said you'd let me see her!"

I stood up and neared them.

"Diana!" He screamed as he saw me. "Diana! I did it! I learned to fight back, I did!"

"You killed them." I said, disbelieving.

"They killed us!" He said. "All high-school long, they _killed_ and _tortured_ our souls! I returned the favor to them, Diana, I did! I fought back, like you always said I should!"

"Not like this." I said. "Never like this. Take him away."

The officers who held him pulled him away and he fought them, trying to get to me and screaming, "Diana! Diana!" Until he was out of sight. I leaned on a chair nearby, almost falling from mental and physical exhaustion when I noticed Hotch marking me to come closer.

"We're leaving in the morning." He said. "You have two options. The first, coming with us to the motel and then flying to Virginia, not thinking of Bobby ever again. The second is to enter that interrogation room and be reunited with your uncle."

"I'm sorry, Hotch," I said, "but I made the mistake of leaving and never thinking of him again once, I will not do it twice. I don't care if he hates me or never want to see me again, he's family. And you don't bail on family."

"I understand." Hotch said.

I nodded silently and turned towards the interrogation room.

"Wheels up at 8am sharp."

I turned to see Hotch smiling at me. "You… you still want me?"

"Like it or not, you're family." He said. "And you don't bail on family. Don't be late, Chessi."

"I won't!" I promised with a smile and entered the room where Bobby still sat, the now empty six-pack next to him.

"You're back." He said as I un-cuffed him. "I didn't think you would be."

"You only make mistakes once." I said.

"Humph." He replied. "Can you tell me why does everybody call you Chess?"

"I don't know." I raised a brow. "Do I get to meet Rumsfeld again?"

He stood up and looked at me for a second before pulling me into a hug.

"Don't you dare go missing on me again, girl." He whispered to my ear.

Tears rose to my eyes as I returned the hug. "Never."

* * *

><p>"Can you tell me who the hell is Darlin'?" Morgan asked when I sat on the jet, right before I put my headphones on.<p>

"Darlin's my motor." I said.

"You called your bike 'Darlin'? Elle asked. "Why?"

"Well, 'Baby' was already taken." I replied with a smile.


	4. Demons

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Supernatural.**

* * *

><p><strong>"I write about the scariest monsters:<br>The ones inside us all.  
>And the ones that want to eat what is inside us all."<br>Aaron Marcusson**

"David Crimson, Anne Collins, Jessica Faro," JJ said as pictures appeared on the screen behind her, "Brandon Loran, Donna Sean. During the last three years, they, along with 27 other people, were reported missing by their families. One day they just stopped arriving to work, left home, stopped answering phone calls and neither of their credit cards were used. Two days ago, during the investigation on the disappearing of Tony Corset," - a picture of a young man, about 20 or 21 years old appeared on the screen - "The police followed clues on his whereabouts and arrived at a cabin. They called forensic to the cabin and found DNA of all 32 victims."

"_32 victims?_" Morgan repeated.

"And of five more unidentified personals." Hotch said.

"Wow." Morgan said. "Even during the course of three years, that is impressive."

"How come we weren't called earlier?" Elle asked.

"Until now, there was no connection between the victims." JJ said. "Different… well, everything. Starting with the State they lived in, through skin tone and up until gaps in ages."

"Some of the victims look like they're in good shape." Gideon said. "The Unsub must have extraordinary strength in order to succumb them."

"Or he tricked them." Reid offered. "Drugged them and then moved them somehow."

"But why did they call forensic to the cabin if it turned to be a dead end?" I asked. "I mean, obviously it was a smart idea in retrospective, but what made them think of it?"

"Because that's not the weirdest thing." JJ said. "When the local PD entered the cabin they saw… well… see for yourselves." She clicked a button and pictures arrived on the screen.

For a second, my blood froze in my veins and my heart stopped. The walls were filled with symbols and writings, some familiar to me and some not. There were jars with a clear liquid I'd guess to be holy water and a Devil's Trap was painted on the floor. But something seemed off.

"Chess?"

Hotch's voice pulled me out of the thoughts that started running uncontrollably in my head.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I asked, what do you think?" He said, apparently for the second time.

"Well," I said, "Someone sure went to a whole lot of trouble to make it seem satanic."

"Seem?" JJ asked.

"I see what you mean." Reid said, to my surprise. "The blood in the bowl and some of the symbols on the wall stand in contradiction to the Pentagram inside the circle on the floor and the rest of the symbols."

"Contradiction?" Elle asked. Nobody but Reid and myself seemed to understand what's going on.

"The symbols on the walls. Some of them are old runes used to summon demons and strengthen their powers." I picked from where Reid stopped. "Or so it's believed, at least. While the Pentagram, unlike common belief, is used to defy the evil and fight him."

"It's an amulet." Reid said. "And a powerful one at that."

"And the way it is drawn on the floor…" I hesitated. "The symbols and structure fits the Key of Solomon, which is believed to be able to capture Demons, but this specific type of Sigil-Traps is associated with the Star of David."

"The traps who use the Pentagram are far less complicated." Reid added.

"But also less powerful." I commented.

"Besides, the circle is broken."

"It's completely useless."

"And some of the symbols on the walls are used to defy Demons."

"But they're also worn out and blurred."

"Again, completely useless."

"And the blood in the bowl, Lamb blood, I guess?"

"It's actually connected to sacrifices to God, not Satan.."

Everybody stared at us.

"Wow." Elle finally broke the silence.

"Geek and Geeker." Morgan said with a smile.

I looked at Reid. "I did my Major in Religion. What's your excuse?"

He shrugged. "My mother was a Religion Professor." He said. "She wrote a couple of books and articles about Demons and means of protections from them, and she always let me read."

"Wait," I said, amazed. "Your mother's Deanna Reid? She's simply brilliant, I read every book and article she wrote on the occult and supernatural world and it just…" I saw the look both Hotch and Gideon were giving me. "It can wait." I mumbled.

"Do you happen to have any of those books or articles here?" Hotch asked.

"At home." I shook my head. "But even on the Motor, it's 15 minutes each way."

"Alright." Hotch said. "Take Reid with you. Wheels up in 40."

* * *

><p>"So, you know quite a lot about the occult." Reid commented as I parked Darlin' outside my apartment building.<p>

"I did my research about it during my degree." I said. "Read dozens of books and articles. Bobby had quite the collection on the supernatural and the occult himself, and I guess I was just intrigued by it, ever since I was young."

Two weeks had passed since South Dakota, and after what happened there, I felt more at ease with sharing information about my past with the team. They already knew the worst there was about me, the story of John and Bobby, and they learned a bit about my brothers, too. Everything else seemed so… Normal. Even when it wasn't.

"You read books on the occult as a _child_?" Reid asked, amazed.

"So did you." I said protectively as I opened the door and let him in. "Here we are." I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Home sweet home."

It was a simple place. There was a small living room with a small sofa, a barely used kitchen, a miniature bedroom and a shower. And books.

Loads of loads of books.

Reid froze at the door, taking everything in as he looked at the books that covered nearly every surface – on the coffee table, in the kitchen, stacked on the floor, nearly falling off the shelves.

I took a quick glance at the clock that hung up on the wall and saw we have 25 more minutes. Ten minutes until we had to get back if we don't want to be late.

I expertly started lowering books off the shelves, opening drawers in the kitchen and searching between the sofa's cushions. An outsider might not get it, but I know the exact place of every book in the house. It's my little order behind the mess.

"On my night-shed there's a purple book in Hebrew." I told Spencer, who was still standing by the door. "Can you bring it here?"

"Sure." Spencer said, watching as I took three shopping bags out of one of the closets and started piling the books inside. He returned a minute or two later, the book in his hand, and handed it over to for me to put at the top of one of the bags.

"What does it say?" He asked curiously.

"The Next World in the Bible and Kabala." I replied. "Which reminds me, can you read Arabic or Latin?"

"Umm… No."

"Balls." I mumbled. Some of those books I hadn't read in a while, and despite memorizing them at a very young age to help John or Bobby hunting, it is only on rare occasions when a hunter actually encounter a Demon and some of what I read began getting blurry. Besides, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful.

I finished packing the last plastic bag and handed it to Spencer, lifting the other two myself. He took one of them from me and gave me a stern look not to argue. "Let's go." I said, leading us out of the apartment and building.

Reid closed the door behind us and paused to take a closer look at it. "There's a Devil's Trap on your door handle." He said when we walked to the street.

"It's a sign of protection." I said. "You know, if you believe that sort of things."

"Do you?" He asked.

I put my helmet on my head and handed over his.

"Do I what?"

"Believe in that sort of things."

I took a moment to consider my words before simply replying, "Yes."

"Why?" He asked, looking confused. "Demons aren't… real."

I shrugged, grateful he didn't notice the lines of salt near the windows – those are much harder to explain. "Better safe than sorry, I guess." I sat on the motor and tapped lightly on the seat behind me, marking him to do the same. "Hop on. We don't want to be late."

He sat and put the bags between us, leaning forward to keep them in place, as well as keeping his balance and I took off.

I loved nothing more than to ride my motor. It cleared my mind, helping me let go of all my worries and just relax. On Reid, however, it seemed to have the opposite effect. By the time we reached the airport, I felt so calm even the thought of the hour-long flight ahead of me couldn't stress me, and he got off the bike so quickly one of the bags fell on the floor and torn open.

A couple of minutes later, we walked inside the jet, an annoyed Reid carrying the two bags and me carrying the content of the third one.

"Have you considered using a bag?" Morgan asked, amused at the situation.

"I did." I replied coldly. "But _somebody_ ripped it open when he got off Darlin'."

"That is a death machine." Reid replied and despite the seriousness in his tone, everybody but me laughed. Even Hotch smiled before coughing and bringing the subject on hand back up.

"So you've got all you need?" He asked.

"Yeah. This one," I pointed on one of the bags Reid carried in, "is books I know well enough, but might use, and the other two are books I need to swift through again."

"Those are a lot of books." Gideon commented.

"Is any of you know Hebrew?" I asked, all the stress from the flight coming back to me. "Arabic? Latin? So be quiet, I need to read."

JJ raised both eyebrows. "Okay…" She said, and then closed her mouth after seeing the glare I sent in her direction.

I took the top book from the pile I just put on the table and opened it in chapter one: "The Demons Inside Us All".

* * *

><p>The case turned out to be the most nerve-wrecking case I've ever worked. The more I read about it, the more I was pushed to the conclusion that we are dealing with a Demon spell, and I knew the team couldn't do anything about it.<p>

After three days with no more clues whatsoever, I gave up and called Bobby.

"Hey, Peanut." He replied with a happy tone I've never heard him say to anybody but me. "How're you doin'?"

"Not so well." I admitted. "We're dealing with this case here, and I think it involves Demons."

"I thought you were done hunting." He said, his voice somewhere between confused and interested.

"I am."

"Oh." He still sounded a bit confused, and then suddenly turned serious. "Oh."

"Chess, did you find any –" Reis entered the room and then noticed I was on the phone. "I'll come back later."

"No." I said, having had enough of this awkwardly professional relationship between us since the case started. "Bobby, I'm putting you on speaker, Reid's here. He also read a lot of books and articles about the occult." I added, making sure he realizes that for the team, this wasn't real but only a hallucinating psychopath.

"Is he the black, good-looking one?" Bobby's voice rang in the nearly empty room.

"No, he's the younger one." I replied.

"The nerd?"

I sighed. "Yes, Uncle Bobby." I said.

"Would you stop calling me 'Uncle Bobby'?" He asked, annoyed.

"Would you stop insulting my friends?" I retorted.

"Yeah, whatever." Bobby said. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Have you ever heard of a Devil's Trap that have all the marks of the Key of Solomon, but has a Pentagram in the middle?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't think so, kiddo, but I'm no expert." He said. "There used to be this professor I knew back in the day, haven't spoken to her in years."

"What's her name?" Reis asked.

"I don't really remember." Bobby sighed. "Deanna Something. She lived in Vegas."

"Deanna Reid?" Reid asked quietly.

"Yes! That's her!" Bobby called. "Deanna Reid, lovely woman, a bit messed up there if you know what I mean."

Reid sighed and left the room.

"God, you can be so stupid sometimes, Bobby." I said.

"What did I do?"

If he was here and stares could kill, I'd probably stare him to death. "Dr. Spencer _Reid_. Deanna _Reid_." I sighed. "Did you really not see the connection?"

"Was he…?" Bobby sounded somewhere between ashamed and surprised. "I didn't know Deanna had a son."

"Well, she does." I said. "Bobby, how much did she know? About what we… what _you_ do?

"Everything." Bobby said. "She taught me everything I know about fighting Demons. Why?"

"Because he doesn't know crap." I replied, thinking of how sad my friend looked when he stepped out of the room. "I'll call you later." I added and hung up, running after Reid.

"Spence!" I called and he turned, pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry for Bobby. He can be a bit insensitive sometimes."

"I noticed." Reid said with a sad smile, and I could see the hint of tears in his eyes. "Don't mind that."

"But I do." I put a comforting hand on his arm. "I care about you, Spence. And I feel bad that what he said hurt you."

"It's not _what he said_." Reid replied. "It's that I know it's true."

"Don't think of that." I said.

"What should I think about, then?" He asked.

"The case." I offered. "I want to go over the case files again and it'll be a hell of a lot quicker if you'd join."

Reid looked at me. "You think we missed something?"

"I don't know." I said. "But I remember reading about a witness to the first kidnapping, and I don't remember seeing his questioning script."

"What's the name?" He asked.

"Josef Gold."

Reid looked confused. "There wasn't a script by that name." He said. "At least not one I remember reading."

"And that's where your memory is useful." I smiled and fake-sighed. "What would I do without you?"

"Read." He offered. "A lot."

I laughed. "A good thing I don't need to." I said and pulled out the phone.

"Garcia, it's me and Reid," I said as she picked up. "I need you to run some magic for me."

"I'm on it." She replied. "What do you need?"

"We're drowning in papers here, I need you to find and send us the script of Josef Gold's interview." I said.

"Searching... There isn't any." She sounded confused. "Moreover, Josef Gold was also reported missing, even before the disappearances begun. But, that is weird, someone is still paying the bills for his house, even though nobody lived there in years."

"What?" Reid asked. "Are you sure?"

"Like a strawberry in whipped cream." She replied swiftly. "I'll send you the deets and update Hotch and Gideon."

"Tell them to meet us there." I instructed and started running towards the exit where our SUVs parked. I jumped into the driver's seat and Reid entered the passenger side, closing the door and looking at his phone.

"Garcia sent us the address." He said and I nodded and started driving.

"A strawberry in whipped cream?" I asked.

"I have no idea."

* * *

><p>Reid and I parked outside a deserted-looking house. We walked out, taking our guns and prepping them while Reid marked me to enter from the front while he takes the back. I walked in and cleared the rooms one by one, as Reid did the same and we met besides a staircase right next to the basement door. Just as I marked him to head up while I go down, I heard the sound of a car approaching. The team is here.<p>

Morgan rushed through the front door and soon enough Hotch followed, just as I slowly opened the door. I marked Morgan to be my backup and stepped inside. Before he could follow, though, the door shut itself close and locked.

"Chessi!" Morgan yelled, banging on the door.

"That wasn't me." I said nervously.

"Chess." Hotch's voice came through the door, stern and relaxing as ever. "Do not move. Stay right where you-"

Before he could finish up, however, an invisible force pushed me forward and I tripped and fell down the stairs. I grunted when I hit the bottom, my gun flying away from me and towards the man who stood there, as if waiting for me.

"Hello, agent." He said as I pushed myself up and stood up. He lifted my gun and played it in his hand. "How are you?"

"I've had my better days." I replied to the man who was probably Josef Gold. "I don't really like being pushed down the stairs."

"I had to separate you from your team." He said, not the least bit sorry or regretting. "It was risky, bringing them here. I only invited you."

"Invited me?" I repeated.

"Naming Gold as an eye-witness." He said. "I counted on you noticing it."

"You're not Gold?" I asked. The more he spoke the more confused I became.

"Yes and no." He said, not elaborating. "I didn't think you'd bring your pals, though. If any of them came down here, too, it would have been dangerous, life threatening even. They could've died."

My heart skipped a beat to the direct threat on my team. An internal battle was fought inside me, and common sense lost to my natural Winchester instincts.

"You lay a finger on them and they will suffer." I threatened.

"Will I?" He asked, taking a couple of steps and ending right in front of me. "Please do tell me, how?"

"I will find a way." I said, nearing him rather than backing off. "There is always a way."

And with that I kicked him in the groin. I used the moment of distraction I created to unarm him from my gun and point it at him, taking less than half a second to aim before shooting a bullet straight through his heart.

He stumbled back a bit before regaining his balance and looking at me, shock and annoyance coexisting in his eyes. With a fling of his hand, the gun flew from my reach and I was left unarmed, facing what I should have seen earlier to be a demon.

"That," he said, sending a killer gaze into my eyes, "was a very, _very_ stupid move."

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN: So... Cliffhanger. Sorry 'bout that.**

****I wanted to say a big 'Thank You!' to the few who reviewd the fic, it feels really nice to know people like it so:****

****MAo, squidgy78, AnimeWriterFreak and Marksmen Queen - I love you guys.****

****Also, to the 17 (!) Followers and 8 Favorites of the story: You're the best!****

****I really want to know what you think of this chapter, it was really hard to write so please review!****

**As you might've noticed, I took some liberty when writining this chapter, trying to follow what Supernatural is saying in refference to Demons while adjusting it to fit my needs.**

**And, since there was no refference in the show to some of the names of people possesed by Demons, I named them myself.**


	5. Family Matters

**A/N:**** So after CherySin's nice comment, I am officially in the search for a beta, anybody interesteed can send me a private message or even write a review at the sweet little box down there.**

**I really liked writing this chapter but after re-reading it, I'm not so sure how I liked it so reviews about it (and in general) would be very welcomed.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Yup, I think this pretty much sums it up.**

* * *

><p><strong>"A father is a man who fails every day."<strong>

**Michael Chabon**

I looked Gold up and down, mentally cursing myself for the stupidity of trying and shoot him. I should have known better than to think that would work.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Aren't you supposed to ask, _what_ are you?" He said with a deathly smile.

"I already know what you are." _And I also know this smile can't mean anything good for me._ I thought but never said.

"Oh, I think you know me quite well." Gold said. "After all, it's not the first time I push you down a flight of stairs. Then again," he says as if he just thought of it, "you were _so_ young back then. Only four years old. And you don't remember much from that old house in Lawrence, do you?"

"I…" I mumbled. "You…"

He blinked and when his eyes reopened, it was yellow. "Hello, Dear."

"Son of a bitch."

The smile that was still on his face grew wider. "I see you recognize me." He said, amused.

"You killed my mother." I said, my voice ice cold.

"Well, yes." He replied. "She brought it on herself, though."

I couldn't hear another word coming out of his mouth. Thoughtlessly, I reached a hand to my belt, searching for something, anything that I could use as a weapon against the demon. But, of course, it was in vain. Before I knew what was going on, I flew across the room and onto a wall.

The impact took all of the air away from my lungs and I struggled for air, so it took me a moment to realize I was still moving. Slowly but steadily, I climbed the wall each by inch until I was on the ceiling.

"This is how your mother died." Yellow-Eyes said. "Her hair was swept around her head, just like yours is right now. Only hers was longer. And blood dripped from the wound in her stomach." I felt a sharp fain as a gash was cut in my abdomen. "I waited right until your father entered the room to check on Sammy before starting the fire."

My fists clenched in fury at the mention of John and Sam. "You better kill me now." I said. "Because if you don't, I will hunt you down and kill you just for that."

"Would you like to die?" He asked. "I find it fascinating. Take Jess, for example. She was terrified. And Mary fought with nails and teeth to keep you guys safe from me, but in the end, she was scared. too. But you, you're something entirely different." He looked at me, his yellow eyes digging deep into my brain in a manner that was almost humiliating. "You're not scared of dying. How interesting."

"Why did you…" I gasped. "Why did you want me here… if not to kill me?"

There was a loud crack from the top of the stairs and the both of us looked at the direction. Apparently Morgan finally managed to break that door.

"I fear I'll have to put a rain check on this one." He said. "Tell Jonny I said 'hi'."

A figure appeared down the stairs just as the Demon vanished and I let out a sigh of relief at the thought of not dying today before the fall started.

"Ugh!" I grunted when my body hit the floor, every single bit of my existence in pain.

"Chessi!" I heard somebody calling.

I rolled on my back and took a sharp breath at the pain. _Broken_ _ribs_, I thought. _At least three of them and the others are bruised._ _A broken arm, too._ I put my uninjured hand on my stomach, where the pain seemed to focus, and it felt wet. When I brought it to my eyes, I managed to see red through the blurriness and guessed it was bloodied. _That can't be good._

A face appeared in front of me, blurry like everything else. I tried focusing on it, managing to realize it was Hotch's.

The effort the simple action took me drained me of all the energy I had, leading me into the pitch-black unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>I woke to the coldness of a white light. I always hated those, preferred the warm yellow ones like I have in my room at Bobby's house. I was on a soft bed, and there was a beeping noise from somewhere near me, but other than that everything was silence.<p>

My right hand hurt, and so did my chest. The effort I was having on breathing indicated I must have broken ribs, but it didn't hurt as much as it should have. I must be on painkillers. I groaned. I hate painkillers.

Something moved next to me and I tensed, but a warm, familiar hand quickly grabbed mine and pressed. There was something soothing and relaxing in that movement, and I felt like it had happened before, but that couldn't be right, because nothing like this has ever happened with any of the team members. And who else could it be?

The hand let go of me and I started panicking again as I heard the person saying something in a low, familiar voice, but then the man returned and held my hand again and I relaxed.

I noticed the beeping noise was changing its rhythm according to how I felt and the smell of anesthetics and realized I must be in a hospital. But why?

All of the sudden, the events in the basement came back to me.

Marking Morgan to follow me inside, the door shutting closed before he had a chance to do so, falling down the stairs and seeing the yellow-eyed Demon.

My eyes opened and I sat upright, my heart beating fast and my breaths shallow and not enough. The hand was yanked away from my reach and the man said something in an angry tone, but before I could do anything else, I felt a sting in my arm and everything turned black.

When I woke up again, I managed to open my eyes. As I thought, I was at a hospital room, but it was empty this time. The pain in my hand was intense, but I was glad for it. It means no painkillers.

A cheerful doctor walked into the room. "You're awake!" She said with a gleeful manner I only ever saw with Garcia. "I'm Dr. Cole, I'm going to ask you some questions, and check up on your stiches, alright?"

I nodded slowly, a movement that left me exhausted and she asked for my name.

"Diana Millie Winchester." I said, and immediately bite my tongue. "Chess. Diana Millie Chess."

"Both answers are alright." The doctor said, beaming at me. "Can you tell me what year is it?"

"Um… 2006?" I asked.

"That's right. Now, how many fingers do you see?"

I focused on her fingers. "Two." I said, for once certain of the answer I give.

Dr. Cole smiled. "You're doing great. I'll check the stiches now." She added, lifting the bottom of my shirt to look at my stomach. "You're healing well. There wasn't harm to any internal organs, so in a couple of weeks this will be nothing more than a small scar."

_Another scar._ I thought. _Like I didn't have enough already._

"Can I see my team?" I asked.

"Yes, but not more than three at a time, and only for a couple of minutes." She instructed. "You've been through a lot and you need to rest."

I nodded in understanding and she went to tell them I woke up and was responding. I waited, eager to see who will come to see me first, and my heart almost burst out of my chest when I saw Reid and Garcia.

"Hi, guys." I smiled as Garcia ran to me and hugged me like she's afraid to break something. "What's up?"

"You're the one in a hospital." Reid noted with a relieved smile.

"Me?" I asked with a bright smile at my lips. "I'm peachy."

"Peachy?" Garcia asked. "Chessi, do you know how long were you unconscious?" I shook my head. "Five days."

I was taken aback at that. _Five days? It's been five days since the case?_

Reid took a step forward and put a hand on my shoulder. "We were really worried." He said.

"You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?"

Garcia laughed. "Never."

"Do you…" Reid didn't seem to know how to approach the topic. "What do you remember that happened?"

"We were at Gold's house." I replied. "I entered the basement and the door closed behind me. I panicked and fell down the stairs," I looked at them, knowing they must never know the whole truth. "And that's it. Next thing I know, I'm here."

Reid and Garcia exchanged worried glances. "What?" I asked.

"The basement had no windows." Reid said. "No secret exits, no exits at all except for the door we stood by. When we found you… Chessi, you had a deep cut in your stomach, five broken ribs and a broken arm. Your gun was three feet away from you, after you shot a single time, but we found no bullet or entry wounds anywhere in the room and…"

"And what?" I asked impatiently.

"And you were alone." Garcia finished. "Do you really not remember anything that happened?"

I shook my head slowly. "I'm sorry I can't help you." I said. "I really don't remember." A thought occurred to my mind all of the sudden, and it jumped to my lips before I could think of it. "The doctor told me I can have three visitors, but there's only two of you. Who's the third?"

"He's waiting outside." Garcia said. "We wanted to finish this before he comes in."

"Why?" I was confused. Why would anybody wait outside?

"Because Reid won't be in the same room with him." Came the unhelpful answer.

"He shouldn't even be here." Reid said. "I don't know who even told him what had happened, or how he knew to come here and ask for Hotch. And I can't believe Hotch for letting him in."

"Letting _who_ in?"

"Hey, Dee."

I looked up at the door. "No." I said.

"I think it's best if we go now." Garcia said, taking Reid's hand and all but running out to the hall while the man who stood there entered.

"I haven't seen you in such a long time." He forced a smile to his face. It looked misfit. "How are you?"

"Go away."

He sighed. "Dee, I know that you're mad at me –"

"No!" I said again. "Go away, John! I don't want you here!"

Pain flashed through his bloodshot eyes. "Diana. Would you please listen to me?"

"Why would I?" I was enraged. "You never bother to listen to anybody else, why would I listen to you?"

"Because I know you lied." I looked at him. "I taught you to lie, Diana, I can see right through. And I saw the way this guys are talking about you, they consider you as family, and I guess you feel the same way. So there's no reason you'd lie to them."

"So that's why you're here!" I exclaimed. "Even at near death, even after a five-days'-long coma, still, that's the _one_ thing that matters! That crazy hunt who started all those years ago. I should've known." I shook my head with disbelief. "You favored that over anything else, I should have known the only reason you're here is because of Yellow-Eyes."

John paused. "What?"

"Don't play naïve." I said. "Missouri told you, didn't she?"

"Dee, all Missouri told me was that she saw you in coma."

"And you just decided to come?" I raised a brow. "Yeah, like I would believe that."

"It's true." John sighed. "You're my kid, I care about you. All of you."

"If that's the case, why didn't you go to see Dean when he was dying?" I said accusingly and he looked surprised. "What? Missouri must've told you about my dreams. I know _everything_."

"It's not what you think." He tried.

"Then what is it?" I asked.

"You… I need to protect _you_."

"Well, you're doing one hell of a job."

"Will you listen to what I have to say?" John raised his voice and then dropped it immediately. "Will you, for once, just let me talk?"

I looked at him, anger still in my eyes. "Listening."

"It's my job to protect you." He said again. "It's Dean's job to protect Sammy and my job to protect _you_. I can't let anything happen to you. You're my little girl, my princess. I'll do anything I think will keep you safe."

I thought about what he said. He _did_ do everything to keep me safe. Even if I didn't see it at the time. Starting with putting me at Bobby's where the worst thing that could've happen to me was kids laughing at me at school and up until punching Ash for having sex with me.

"Why did you stop seeing me as I got older?" I asked.

"You look so much like her." John replied. "With every day that passes you look more and more like Mary and it just… it got too hard."

I froze. "He said I looked like her, too."

John sat on the chair next to me and took my hand. The feeling was comforting and I looked up.

"You were here." I said. "Last time I woke up. You… you took my hand. It calmed me down."

"I'm glad it did, because you know what we must do now and it will be stressful." He sighed. "I wish there was another way but…"

"It's okay." I said, pressing against his palm. "We have to do this." I took a deep breath and started. "I fell down the stairs. He… he pushed me down the stairs. At first, I didn't realize what was going on. I had a hunch that this case is more than a normal case but… I guess I just didn't want to believe it. We talked. He said he lured me in, I think he planted himself as a witness in the case files. He threatened my team, and I…" I paused.

"You…?" John asked.

"I shot him." I said. "Of course, it didn't do anything. He revealed who he was to me. He… he threw me to the ceiling and said that's how mom died. Then, he made a cut in my stomach."

The hand that was holding mine pressed a little tighter, to relax me. To remind me I was safe now, that he couldn't hurt me. I knew it was all an illusion, but I still gave into that illusion.

"He told me she fought." Tears fell on my cheeks. "He told me she fought her hardest to keep us safe, and that she failed. He said that, in the end, she was scared. Just like Jess, the girl Sam dated. He asked me if I was afraid. And then, Morgan managed to break the door. Yellow-Eyes disappeared, but I was still on the ceiling so I just -"

"Fell." John sighed in understanding. "That's why all the broken bones."

I took a deep, relaxing breath and looked at him. "Why are you here? For real, please, tell me why you are here."

"I'm after Yellow-Eyes." He said. "And I'm closer than ever. I'm getting even closer with every coming day and…" He sighed. "I might die. And I can't die without mending things. I'm going to find the boys later, but I can't ask you to give up what you lived so hard to build. So, I guess I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you and the boys. I'm sorry I wasn't the father I should've been. The father I once wanted to be. I just needed you to know that."

"You're gonna stop it." I said, tears swelling in my eyes. "And you're gonna stop it now. You're _not _dying. You're not gonna die. I'm pretty sure the universe has some rule against you dying, judging by all the times you survived."

"Maybe my luck is running out."

"No." I said firmly. "You _can't_ die. You can't. You are… you are _not_ dying."

He took my hand to his mouth and kissed it. "I gotta go, Dee." He whispered.

"No." I said. "Please don't go."

"I'm sorry." He said. "I love you." Then he was gone.

"I love you too, dad." I whispered back, even though he couldn't hear. "I love you, too."

* * *

><p>The nightmares kept me up. Soon enough, John found the boys, but they encountered a Demon named Meg and he left them once again, thinking they are not safe near him.<p>

It nearly broke my heart to see them all like that, one unhappy family.

In the meanwhile, my other family came visiting me.

Elle and JJ came with smiles and a ridiculous amount of flowers.

Garcia returned and brought me colorful cupcakes, because "Nothing can be bad when you have cupcakes!" As it appeared, she turned to be right.

Hotch and Gideon arrived to check I'm alright, and force me to take a couple of weeks off, in order to heal properly, and all the protests in the world wouldn't convince them to change their mind.

Morgan tried to guide my mind in order to remember, but since I already remembered everything, and was only lying to them, it did no good.

The Demon escaped, as I knew he would, and the team was left without any real leads in the investigation of the missing persons and my attack.

It's been three days after I was released from the hospital, and three and a half weeks before I was cleared to go back to work when I saw Reid again. He came to my apartment after a hard case who got Elle shot and involved his mother, and to my surprise, he brought her along.

"Chessi, this is my mom. Mom, this is Diana Chess, one of my teammates and a fan of your work on the occult."

I stood in the door and looked at the woman whose work I knew nearly by heart for about a minute before my senses came back to me.

"Come on in." I said with a smile, moving to the living room and clearing room on the book-filled sofas. "Mrs. Reid –"

"Nobody called me Mrs. Reid in years, honey." She said. "Call me Deanna, please."

"Of course, yes, Deanna." I quickly said. "I just wanted to say how much your research on Demons in the cultural belief has been amazing, and inspiring, and probably the base to any other work that was written in the subject."

"I'm glad you liked it." She said, sitting down but not letting go of her bag.

"I'll go make us coffee." Reid said. "Tea for you, mom. I know."

He walked out to the kitchen and I looked at her.

"I've been wanting to ask you…" I hesitated for a moment. "What made you choose this subject for your work?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She said. "It's probably just the… disease, as the doctors and my son call it."

"I grew up at Bobby Singer's house." I said and she looked at me. "He told me everything."

"I didn't know he had children." She commented, curiosity in her voice.

"I'm not his." I explained. "My father is John Winchester."

A look of recognition crossed her face. "You're John's daughter?" She asked.

"You know him?" I asked, surprised.

"I was one of the first people he went to when he started hunting the Demon that killed your mother." Deanna said. "He wanted to know if I have information about him in my research."

"Did you?" I asked.

She looked at me suspiciously. "Why are you asking me this, child?"

"Just… curiosity." I replied.

"Yeah, right." She said. "I know the look on your face. John had the same look when he first came to see me. The thirst for revenge."

"You don't understand –"

"Don't I?" She asked. "Do you know how many hunters came to me over the years, trying to find information about Demons to avenge the loss of their dear ones? Do you know how many of them survived? Take my advice, child. Leave it alone."

"I can't." I said.

"Can't, or won't?"

"He's coming after me." I said. "He lured me into a trap that caused me these." I pointed to the bandages on my still not-healed ribcage and arm. "He threatened to hurt my team. To hurt Spencer. He wants me for some reason and I need to know why."

"It wouldn't help you run away from him." She warned. "You can never run away from him."

"I know that." I admitted. "And I will not leave my team. I worked too hard to get to where I am today. I just… if he gets me, _when_ he gets me, I need to be as prepared as I can."

Deanna looked at me for a minute before answering. "He has a plan." She said. "A plan involving those he calls, 'his special kids'. He will send them to a battle to the death and the last man standing will be chosen to lead his armor of Demons and conquer the land."

"The land?" I asked, confused.

"Earth. And all the souls within."

"But what do I have to do with any of it?" I asked.

"I don't know." She admitted. "I can only guess."

I wanted to ask her what was her guess but like on a cue, just at that moment Spencer returned to the room.

"One tea with no sugar," he said, handing the steaming cup over to his mother, "one coffee with cream and one sugar," he handed another one to me.

"And I guess the third one is your unnaturally sweet coffee." I said with a smile, as if he wasn't interfering in the middle of something important.

"Just for your information," he said, "my coffee is amazing. I have no idea how you guys drink your bitter mixture."

"The bitter mixture _is_ the coffee, Spence." I replied. "Whatever it is inside your cup is poison."

"She's right, you know." Deanna said. "You don't like the taste of coffee, don't drink it. That's what I do."

I laughed as Spencer pulled a face and Deanna rolled her eyes, and just for a moment, nothing bad was happening.


	6. A Moment of Truth

**A/N:**** I'm so sorry I didn't upload last night! I'm drowning at schoolwork and homework and I just didn't have time...**

**On the bright side, I now have a beta for this story: squidgy78. And because of the delay, she had time to write this chapter before I posted it and it was great help - thank you!**

**Small warning: This chapter covers Supernatural episodes 'Salvation', 'Devil's Trap' and 'In My Time of Dying'. Basically - end of season 1 to the beggining of season two. It's a bit different from the other ones because most of the ground shaking events are Eric Kripke's work, not mine. Also, we finally have a glimpse into Diana's dreams.**

**I hope you'd like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><strong>"Dreams can be dangerous things."<strong>

**Cassandra Clare, ****_Clockwork Angel._**

Things go bad ten days before I can go back to work.

It all started when I decided to take a run. Usually, I do a 5 miles every morning to keep myself in shape, but the long, endless days of staying at home with nothing to do while the team is out for a case are starting to get to me. So I decided to have a second run for the day, making up for the days I had to give it up because of my bruised and broken ribs.

Around three miles in, I noticed a young woman leaning on a tree and gasping for breath.

"Are you okay?" I asked, running on my spot next to her to keep my heart beatings fast.

"Yeah," she said, "just a little dizzy."

"It happens when you're pushing yourself over your limits." I provided, finally deciding to stop. I take my bottle of water and hand it to her. "Drink slowly." I instructed, and she nodded and did as I told her.

I looked at her when she was drinking. She looked oddly familiar, but I couldn't recognize why or from where. Only when she handed the water over, I noticed the small, insignificant way her rib was sitting and realized it was broken. _Broken so badly_, I thought, _that she shouldn't be able to breath, let alone talk_.

The dots connected in my mind and I backed off with fear.

"Meg." I said. "You're Meg. I saw you…" I remember the dream I had when I was still in the hospital. "You tried to kill John."

She smiled as her eyes turned black. "I'm glad you recognize me." She said. "This is going to make things _so_ much simpler."

Immediately, I turned and ran away. I didn't make it hundred feet before she was right in front of me again.

"I thought I said _simpler_." She said, almost annoyed. "Come with me, and I won't hurt you. Don't…" A dangerous look crossed her face. "And I will."

I took a moment to think about my possibilities. Coming with her, and going against everything I believe, or not, and trying to fight a Demon singlehandedly and with no weapons. With a grim expression, I chose option two.

I pushed her out of the way and started running, as fast and far away as I could. This time, my luck played a little better, but not by much. After about three hundred feet, I was thrown away from the road and onto a tree, the impact causing a sharp pain in my healing ribs.

"You can't escape, honey." Meg said, walking calmly towards me. "You can fight, but you will never win." With a click of her fingers, I found myself in a seemingly abandoned hall.

Meg took me by the arm and shoved me inside the room. I fell on the floor and grunted, and heard an all-too-familiar voice calling, "No!"

I looked up to see John, tied to a chair and looking all beaten up.

"No!" He said again. "Please, no! Do whatever you want to do to me, just don't hurt her. I will do anything." He begged.

It broke my heart to see this strong man breaking like that in front of the Demon scum, but Meg found it rather amusing.

"Hurt her?" She asked. "No, no. Azazel wants her unharmed and well. Besides, there's nothing I want from you. She, on the other hand, can tell us where your precious boys are."

"Don't!" John ordered. "No matter what she does to me, don't –"

The rest of his sentence is being cut off by a choking sound as Meg lifted her hand and blocked off his oxygen supply using her Demonic powers. I never quite realized how they did do it, and I might've been intrigued by it if it wasn't for the dying man in-front of me.

"Stop it!" I called, standing up and pushing her away. For a moment, it seemed to work and John took a deep breath, but then Meg continued and he was choking once again. "What do you want?" I ask desperately. "I can't help you, I don't know where they are!"

"You know them better than anybody else." She said. "You know how Dean thinks and acts. So tell me, in this situation, who will they go to?"

I looked at John, who tried to talk to me through his choking breaths. "Don't." He whispered out, shaking his head weakly. "It's okay, Dee. It's okay."

But I knew it was not okay, and I just couldn't take it anymore as his face turned purple. With a voice filled with shame and hatred, I whispered the word John begged me not to.

"Bobby's."

They both looked at me. Meg's eyes were filled with surprise, but in John's I saw nothing but disappointment. Meg lowered her hand, and John breathed again, and I ran towards him. I put my hand on his, but he moves it away.

"I told you not to tell her." He said.

"I was not going to just stay there and watch you die." I reply just as firmly.

"You should've."

Before either of us could say another word, Meg grabbed me and pulled me away from my father.

"No!" I could hear him screaming again. "Dee! No!"

"Dad!" I yelled back. "Dad!" A door was closed between us and the screaming died in my throat.

Meg smiled at me as she opened the door to another room. "Azazel will see you now." She said and pushed me inside.

This time, I managed to keep my balance and not trip. I looked around and found myself not alone in the room. I could recognize the figure from miles away, the man who was in the basement less than a month ago, and was responsible for all the pain I had gone through.

"Why am I here?" I asked and he turned around, smiling.

"Because you should be." He said simply. "It's your destiny. The Child of Creation will bring me the victory, and now that my plan is starting to move forward, I need to put the last pieces to place."

"'the Child of Creation'?" I repeated, confused.

"You." He said. "Of course, you don't know it yet, but your job is written. Your part in the end of time has been planned for centuries. All I do is to rush the process, and make sure you're on my side when the time comes."

"Your side?" I laughed bitterly. "I will _never_ be on your side. Never."

"We'll see about that." He replied. "We still have time to change that. But for now, I have some unfinished business to wrap up. I'll be back in a few hours." He smiled viciously. "Don't go anywhere."

He disappeared into thin air and I looked across the room. There were bars on the windows and in the bathroom, and the door was charm locked. I sighed. I needed to find a way out of this place.

About an hour later, a Demon entered the room.

"I brought you food." It looked around the room and locked its gaze at the rubble on the bed. "Come out, come out wherever you are." It said, taking the cover off and finding a drawing painted in blood. "What the-"

Before it added another word, I finished the spell and the drawing glowed in a red light. The Demon lit up as well, as if there was a flickering light bulb inside it, and then dropped to the floor. I neared and checked for a pulse. Dead.

"Degree in religion, Bitch." I mumbled, looking through the dead body and searching for anything useful. I found keys and grabbed them, noting myself to check them later. For the moment, I had to get out.

I walked out the door slowly, stopping every couple of moments to listen around, but the place is awfully quiet. A quick look around John's room reveals to me that he is gone, and that a struggle had occurred. He's gone, without me.

I gritted my teeth at the anger. Even now, even here, he leaves me behind. I quickly came to my senses, though, and continued walking outside. I looked around me and was surprised to find out I recognized my surrounding.

I was barely a 15 minutes' walk from my apartment.

I ran the distance in ten and skipped the steps two at a time up to my apartment. I realized I didn't have my key and shivered.

I made a mental note to change all of my locks.

I quickly picked the lock and walked inside, checking the salt lines under the windows. All clear. I grabbed a bag and threw some t-shirts and jeans inside before taking my keys and nearly jumping down the stairs. I started Darlin' and took off.

* * *

><p><em>"It's inside me."<em>

_I looked through Dean's eyes and saw John saying those dreadful words to Sam. That's the unfinished business Yellow-Eyes was talking about. Dean and John._

_"I can feel it." John said and Sam kept the Colt pointed at him. "You shoot me. You shoot me right in the heart, son! Do it, now!"_

_"Sam, don't you do it." Dean's voice spoke from my mouth and I was grateful he said the words I wanted to scream. "Don't you do it."_

_"You've got to hurry." John kept going. "I can't hold on to it much longer. You shoot me, son!" the words cut like knives through my heart. "Shoot me! Son, I'm begging you! We can end this here and now."_

_Sam's face showed hesitation and I was relieved for a moment, but kept my hopes low. I knew either way he chose, things would go bad, but I still couldn't help but hope he wouldn't shoot John. Please, don't shoot our dad._

_"You've got to." John's voice was trembling, but his gaze was stern as ever. "I cant hold it much longer. Shoot me!" He screamed and the Demon left him in a huff of black smoke and he looked at Sam disappointedly._

_"Look, just hold on, all right?" Sam said, driving the Impala, and we looked at him through Dean's eyes. "The hospital is 10 minutes away."_

_"I'm surprised at you, Sammy." John said from the passenger's seat. "Why didn't you kill it?" He questioned. "I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this. Killing this demon comes first – before me, before everything."_

_"No, sir." Sam replied, sending a glance through the review mirror to the backseat and at Dean. "Not before everything."_

_"Look, we've still got the colt." John insisted. "We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, all right? We already found the demon …"_

_But before he could finish the sentence, a truck crashed into us and the car went flying in the air. Dean's head smashed at the window and we lost consciousness._

I woke up in my room at Bobby's house, shivering and nearly crying. I wanted to run downstairs and tell Bobby what I saw before I remembered he doesn't know about my dreams.

Nobody knows, and nobody must ever know.

Instead, I forced myself to take the new phone I bought last night and call Hotch.

"Hotchner." The stern voice said and the familiarity comforted me.

"It's Chess." I said weakly.

"Hey." His voice softened. "Why are you calling this early?"

I looked at the time in my phone. 4:30 am. "Sorry." I mumbled. "Didn't notice the time."

"Is everything alright?" He asked. "Why aren't you calling from your number?"

"Long story." I said, thinking of Meg. "I lost my phone. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'm at Bobby's so don't worry of you can't find me at my place."

"Has anything happened?" Hotch sounded worried.

"No, no." I quickly replied before remembering the dream I just had. "Probably not. I'm actually not so sure."

"Will you tell us?"

Despite all the stress I was in, a smile appeared on my face. "Of course." I promised. "Of course I will."

"Alright, then." Hotch said. "I'll see you in a week."

"See ya." I half joked, hanging up the phone and looking at the ceiling.

I couldn't help but wondering if Dean and John were alright. Sam would be alright, I knew, because he was strong even before and wasn't hit directly, but John's body was exhausted from fighting Yellow-Eyes and I felt the state Dean was in myself.

I didn't know if I could bare losing him.

Trying to keep my mind off those thoughts, I got dressed and went down the stairs to make something to eat. In the kitchen, I found a worried-looking Bobby on the phone.

"Are they alright?" He asked. Someone said something from the other end of the line and Bobby's face darkened even more. "I want you to keep me up to speed with everything that happens, boy. Don't play those stupid games with me, alright? Good." He hung up and looked at where I was standing in front of the fridge, throwing away rotten food and trying to see what I can make breakfast out of.

"What is it?" I asked, knowing the answer I would get.

"Nothing." Bobby said and I tried my hardest to hide my surprise. "This hunter got himself into some trouble and risked civilians."

"A rookie mistake." I said, turning away from the fridge with two eggs and trying to avoid his gaze. "Will they be alright?"

"One of them will be, the other one – not so sure."

So I was right about my evaluation of the accident. Dean did get it harder than John and Sam. I finished making my breakfast in silence and placed it on a plate to take to Bobby's library and read while I'm eating.

"Keep me posted." I said. "I always hate it when civilians get hurt because of this job."

"I will." Bobby said and it reminded me of the promise I made Hotch earlier that day.

All that was left was hoping we both meant our promises just as much.

The day passed by slowly, boredom and worry slowly torturing me, but I pushed it to a distant corner of my mind. Bobby didn't update me about Dean, and I couldn't tell if it was because he was hiding something from me, or because there was nothing to update. I also couldn't tell which option I preferred.

Around 3pm, I heard a car approaching. When I looked out the window and saw the Impala, I ran downstairs, trying to eavesdrop from next to the front door. The whole situation took me back to being fifteen and trying to hear what my dad tells Bobby before he leave again, only this time it wasn't John who came by, it was Sam.

"Look, Sam, this ain't worth a tow." Bobby said. "I say we empty the trunk, and sell the rest for scrap."

Is he talking about Baby? _Nobody's _selling Baby. Not ever.

"No." Sam said and I smiled. _That's my boy._ "Dean would kill me if we did that." _Well, good enough._ "When he gets better, he's gonna want to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix." Bobby insisted. "The frame's a pretzel. The engine's ruined. There are barely any parts worth salvaging."

"Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just gonna give up on –"

"Okay." Bobby cut him off. "You got it."

"Here," Sam said, handing Bobby a list, "Dad asked if you could get this stuff for him."

There was a moment of silence when Bobby probably looked at the list before asking, "What John wants with this?"

"Protection from the Demon." Sam said as if it was obvious. "What?"

"Nothing." Bobby said. "It's just –"

"Bobby." Now it was Sam's turn to cut Bobby off. "What's going on?"

Bobby sighed. "I'll get you the stuff for John." He said.

"Bobby, what aren't you telling me?"

* * *

><p>"What was that?" I asked Bobby after Sam left. I was upstairs when Sam was in the house and so now, I stood at the middle of the staircase.<p>

"Nothing." Bobby said quickly. "Just a –"

"Friend?" I asked. "I'm not stupid, Uncle Bobby."

"Would you stop calling me 'uncle'?" He asked, annoyed.

"Would you stop lying to me?"

I eyed him for about a minute, thanking for all the staring contests I had with John as a teenager. Bobby broke first.

"How long did you know?" He sighed.

"Right from the start." I said.

"How?" Bobby asked.

"Doesn't matter." I replied, trying to keep my mind off the dreams. "How bad is it?"

"Really bad, Peanut." Bobby rubbed his temples. "They don't know if Dean's gonna make it."

"What are they doing to stop it?" I asked.

"What can they already do?" Bobby replied.

"Summon a Demon." Bobby seemed to be unable to look me in the eyes. "I heard you talking to Sam, Bobby. John is summoning a Demon, isn't he? He's summoning Yellow-Eyes to save Dean." Bobby still didn't say anything. "He's gonna make a deal." I wasn't asking anymore as much as saying. "He's gonna sell his soul."

"I don't know." Bobby said. "Maybe. Probably."

I stared Bobby down for two more minutes before speaking again.

"Give me his number."

* * *

><p>"It's John." The familiar voice said from the other end of the line.<p>

"It's me." I said, and then waited for his reaction.

"Where are you?" He asked. It was clear he was trying not to cry.

"Bobby's." I said shortly. "About what happened yesterday, with Meg…"

"I'm not mad." He said. "It's okay, everything's okay."

"Everything's not okay, Dad. Especially if you're gonna do what I think you're gonna do."

For about a minute, he was silent. "You called me 'dad'." He finally said, this time unable to hide the tears in his voice.

"Yeah, I did." Now I was trying not to let the tears show. "You're my dad. And I love you. And you're about to make a deal out of desperation, and that's the worst kind of deals."

"That's the only kind of deals, Dee." John said. "Only desperate people make deals. That's what Demons live off."

"And you're just gonna feed Yellow-Eyes with a spoon?" I asked.

"There is no other way." He sighed.

"There is _always_ another way."

"Not this time." He replied. "Not here, not now."

"You don't have to do this." I insisted. "Please, don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Dee." He said. "I really am."

"I know you are." I cried. "Why doesn't it make me feel any better?"

"Take care." John instructed. "Don't go looking for the boys. Stay away until Yellow-Eyes is out of the picture and keep your friends safe. Are we clear?" I didn't reply. "_Are we clear?_"

"Yes, sir." I sobbed out. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, kiddo." He said and hung up, leaving me crying for five minutes into my phone until Bobby came.

* * *

><p><em>"Did you go after the Demon?"<em>

_I was in Dean's mind again. He is healthy again. But at what cost?_

_"No."_

_"You know, why don't I believe you right now?" Sam asked, and I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but Dad spoke first._

_"Can we not fight?" He asked. "You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. Look, Sammy, I've… I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could." He sighed. "I don't want to fight anymore, okay?"_

_"Dad? Are you alright?"_

_"Yeah." John replied. How far away from the truth can you be? "Yeah, just a little tired. Hey, son, would you mind, uh," he looked at Sam, "Would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"_

_"Yeah." Sam quickly replied, standing up and leaving. "Yeah, sure."_

I woke up at the couch at Bobby's house. In a desperate need to get my mind off that dream, I jumped out the door and ran.

I knew what was happening right now at the hospital. John was saying his last goodbye to Dean. Only the stubborn man couldn't tell them it was goodbye.

He was leaving them in the dark.

I kept running until my lungs burned out and then I turned and ran back to the salvage yard. When I walked inside, I saw Bobby sitting at the kitchen. Two empty beer bottles were on the table, and a third in his hand.

"Sam called?" I asked and he nodded.

Sighing, I headed to the fridge and took out two more bottles. I opened them, handing one to Bobby as I sat down across from him.

"To John Winchester." He said, raising his bottle to meet with mine.

"A father." I said.

"A friend." He added.

"A hero."

* * *

><p><strong>Man, that was sad.<strong>  
><span>

**I hate writing sad scenes, I always feel like everybody are either overreacting or emotionless.**

**Did you think it was good? Did you like the concept of the dreams? There a small box down there where you can tell me everything!**


	7. More Than Just a Friendship

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds**

* * *

><p><strong>"It's the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter."<br>Marlene Dietrich**

I dozed into consciousness, my head throbbing as I realized I'm in my room. I must've gotten here sometime last night, after Bobby ran out of beers. My phone was ringing, and I silently cursed whoever it was that was calling me, before realizing the only ones who had this number were Bobby and the team.

"What?" I whispered weekly into the phone.

"Chess?" Hotch's voice came through the phone, too loud for my liking. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." I said, getting up slowly in order to not add dizziness to all the ways my body stopped functioning. "I just woke up."

"Okay…" Hotch said. "Listen, I know you got some days off, and I got your message last night about John –" My blood froze. _I told him about John?_ "- but we have this case, and now that Elle is gone, we could use your help."

"I'm com- coming." I said with a yawn as I walked down the stairs. "Where are you?"

"North Dakota. Do you want me to send the plane for you?"

"I'll come on Darlin'." I said. "Will be a hell of a lot faster."

"Good." Hotch said. "Garcia will send you the address."

The call ended and I threw the phone on the couch. I put the kettle on to make me some coffee so that I won't fall asleep on the road when I hear some familiar voices. Too familiar.

"Bobby?" Sam called and I froze. "It's us."

Without much thought I worked on instinct. I quickly entered the space under the sink and closed the door behind me, leaving only a small space so that I could see what was going on.

"He's not here." Sam said as he entered the kitchen.

"So the kettle must've put itself on, did it?" Dean asked.

"Even if he's here the kettle put itself on." Sam said. "I don't think I've ever seen Bobby use it."

"Bobby?" Dean called, just when my phone started ringing.

Until I do what dad told me – not to contact the boys – the universe seems to be against me. There I was, stuck under the sink with my brothers standing in the kitchen and trying to find the source of the ringing. Dean approached the couch and exited my limited view and I was just about to give up when Bobby spoke.

"That's mine." He said and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Nothing important."

"Answer it, Bobby." Dean said. I could tell from his tone he didn't believe Bobby for a minute.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "Don't let us disturb you."

There was a moment of silence as I silently prayed, _please, let it be Garcia or Reid, or even Gideon. Please, anyone but Morgan._

"It's Bobby." He said, and then waited a couple of seconds as the person from the other end spoke. "Fear I can't help you with that. Yes." He said and I wanted to scream at them to hang up already. "Yes. Will do. Alright, bye."

"What was that about?" Dean asked.

"Just some hunter who wanted to check something." Bobby lied swiftly. "Asked me about stuff entirely out of my expertise."

His voice sounded distant and I realized he was going up to my room to wake me up. He will understand any moment now. Any. Moment.

"Are you two gonna stand there like idjits all day?" He asked. "Unpack, get some sleep, take a shower, something!"

Bingo.

Sam and Dean walked upstairs and I slowly crawled out of my hiding spot, meeting a very annoyed Bobby waiting for me.

"Garcia says you're being silly." He said, throwing my bag at me. "Your phone's in there."

"I'll talk to you later." I promised, then walked out the door, onto Darlin' and away. As I took the turn out of the salvage yard, I thought I noticed some movement in one of the second floor windows, but overruled it as simple paranoia.

_Maybe it's good I'm going to the team._ I thought. _Nothing like a good ol' case to keep your mind off things._

I arrived at the police station in the early hours of the afternoon. I looked around me. Everything seems to be chaotic and I a saw Hotch was sitting with a woman I didn't know at the table in the corner, reading what I assumed to be the case file. When he noticed me he stood up and walked in my direction.

"Suspect in interrogation room 1." He said. "You're coming in with me"

I looked at him with disbelief. "What?"

"I tried getting him to talk and so did Morgen and Gideon." He looked at me. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

I nodded and followed him to the door. "Wait," I said, pausing right before we arrived, "you didn't tell me –"

Hotch cut me off by entering the room and I was shocked to see the person sitting on the chair.

"Hello, agent Hotchner." He said with a smile. "I see you brought a friend"

"We know you know her. There's no hiding that, Ash."

The person on the chair and I were equally surprised and confused. Him, because he clearly didn't recognize me, and me, because he most definitely wasn't Ash.

I looked at him for a moment before speaking.

"How much?" I asked and recognition lit his face. Though he never saw me in person, we spoke on the phone a couple of times and he clearly recognized my voice.

"How much what?" He asked, attempting to appear confused.

"Don't play naïve." I said. "How much did you bid?"

The man was quiet. "Tell me how much and I'll make sure you won't be charged with anything."

"Chess-"

"You had a chance of doing things your way, Hotch." I said harshly. "You lost it as soon as you sent me here unprepared." I turned to the hunter again. "I will ask again and this is your last chance to get yourself out of the mud. How much did you bid?"

"Two weeks without the Mullet." He said. I observed him for a minute or so before a smile crept on my lips.

"You could've gone with four." I said and he looked up at me with a smile of his own.

"Didn't want to push my luck." He said and my smile turned into a short-lived laughter.

I walked out of the room and headed to an officer. "Un-cuff him." I said just as Hotch caught up to me.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Why don't you tell me?" I asked. "Actually, let me guess. Someone hacked into a cold case file and Garcia caught his IP address. You tracked it and found this young pal. His name is Garth, by the way. Tell me," I said, "did you really think _that _was Dr. Badass?"

"What happened in there?" The woman from earlier asked as she and the others rushed to our direction.

I looked at her. "Who are you?" I asked, rather rude but I didn't really care.

"This is agent Emily Prentiss." JJ said shortly. "She'll be joining the team. Now, what happened in that room?"

"Ash came to Garth with a deal." I said. "Garth pretends to be him and in return, he gets what he wants. Heck of a way to run from the police. Garth says 'yes', Ash runs away, feds come and take the wrong man in. By the way, if you wanted to know why there's a picture of me in Dr. Badass's room, you could've just asked."

"I'll take the bait." Gideon said. "Why was there a picture of you in this Ash guy's room?"

"Not now." I said, walking to the conference room and connecting my phone to the speaker. "I need to make a phone call."

Ash picked after the first dial.

"Hey, Babe." He said. I could tell he was smiling and fought the smile that threatened to rise on my lips.

"You're on speaker, Honey." I replied, a de-ja-vu from all of Morgan and Garcia's conversations in my mind. "Behave."

"I'm not familiar with that word, darling." Ash laughed. "Hey, if I'm on speaker, does that mean agent Penelope Garcia can hear me?"

Garcia looked at me and I nodded shortly.

"I'm here." She said.

"I've got two things to tell you." Ash said. "First, any wrong password on my computer erases all data, but if you didn't know that already then you deserve it."

"And the second?"

"You might as well stop trying to track my phone." I could hear the smile clearly in his voice. "Signal moves every ten seconds."

"What do you want, Ash?" I asked. "Why the games and the hiding and running away?"

"I need your help, Babe."

Silence fell on the room and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a silver knife. I laughed it off.

"Dean sure owes me a ten." I said. "We bet that I would never hear you say those words."

"For that you will need to talk to him." He said. "I heard a certain Impala stopped at Bobby today."

"You're tracking me now." I noted coldly. "Maybe if you're so smart, you can help yourself out of trouble. Or better off, stay out of it in the first place."

"I'm not tracking you, Babe." He said. "Only the Scrambler."

"Son of a bitch." I mumbled.

"What did you think?" His voice came out of the speaker. "I drove it all the way to Harvard without making any changes?"

"I didn't think you could touch a motor without breaking it." I said. "And here I was thanking you for that. Like a fool."

"If I remember correctly, you did more than thanking." Ash said and I felt all the eyes in the room on me.

"Ash." I warned. "You are on _speaker_. My coworkers can _hear_ you. Shut the fuck up."

"Are you ashamed?" He asked. "You didn't used to be. You used to be so proud of our relationship you didn't even bother to hide it from John."

"And how did that end for us?" I asked.

"Maybe you should ask yourself that." He replied and anger floated through me.

"You were the one that slept with that McNally bitch."

"Gosh." He sighed. "You always looked so sexy when you're mad."

One look around and I realized the meaning of his words. "Cover the cameras!" I called. "He hacked into the security system!"

"I'm being framed, Babe." Ash said. "Will you help me?"

"Give me one good reason." I said.

"I can give you plenty." He said. "The friendship we once had. The things you whispered in my ear on your 18th birthday. But more than all that, the fact that you follow justice. You guys hunt down killers, and I'm not one."

"Come here and talk to us and we'll help." I offered.

"Not gonna happen." He replied. "I'll send Garcia the details. Love you, Babe."

I spoke more of instinct than anything else. "Love you too." I said, then covered my mouth with my hand, terrified of what I just said.

Ash chuckled lightly, the most annoying sound I've ever heard. "Always have, Dee."

* * *

><p>"I brought you some coffee."<p>

I looked up and saw the new girl, Prentiss, with two steaming cups. I took one with a nod of my head and she sat by me.

Morgan and Hotch were working with Garcia on the files Ash sent and Reid was with Gideon, searching for information on Mike Labrone – the hunter Ash claimed was the one framing him. JJ was aside, trying to calm down the police officers who wanted to shoot Ash for hacking into their systems. We sat quietly for a couple of minutes before Prentiss spoke again.

"How old is he?" She asked.

"Most people would ask me how I'm doing first." I said accusingly.

"Your father died." She said and a twinge of anger at Hotch telling her something so private about me rose and disappeared instantly. "Your friend slash ex-boyfriend is wanted for murder. And if I understood correctly from what that Ash boy said, you just avoided your brother this morning."

"Brothers, actually." I noted and she raised a brow at me.

"So you are not doing well." Prentiss said. "I thought I'd ask you something else."

"He's 31." I said. "Five years older than me."

"How did you meet him?"

"When I was a teen, I lived at my Uncle Bobby's house." I said. "Every now and then he would go on this… road trip. He'd drop me at the Roadhouse 'cause he and my dad hated to leave me alone. One day, when I was 17, he just appeared there. Had a room and all."

"You love him." Prentiss said and I tried to put my mind on whether or not this was a question.

"Loved." I corrected anyway. "Then I started Harvard and he cheated on me."

"Didn't your dad mind you dating someone who's five years older than you?" She asked.

I laughed bitterly. "He did." I said. "Even punched him in the face once for that."

Prentiss laughed and I smiled.

"We had that spot." I remembered. "A thirty minutes long walk from the – son of a bitch!"

I instantly jumped to my feet.

"You curse a lot." Prentiss commented.

"I only curse him." I replied, glancing at Hotch. "I gotta go." I added, grabbing my coat.

"I'm coming with you."

"Fine." I said, not arguing, as I didn't have time for it. "I hope you're not scared of motors."

Twenty minutes later I parked Darlin' at an old parking lot in the outskirts of town. Ash and I used to come here on starry nights to make out.

Nights much like this one.

Prentiss got off the motor, a bit shaky but from cold rather than fear, and pulled out her gun. I reluctantly pulled mine and we headed towards the shadowy figure who stood at the edge of the cliff.

In retrospective, this place is so stereotypical somebody should've realized we came here.

"I knew you'd come." Ash said, his back at us. "I didn't expect you to bring a friend." He raised his hands is the air, slowly turning to us and walked closer until he stood inside a small patch of moonlight.

He looked exactly the same. Same coat, same face, same mullet haircut. It almost hurt to see how much he stayed the same while I changed.

"I'm going to take a flask out of my pocket." He said. "Don't shoot." He threw the flask at me and I turned it around to see the cross I knew would be there.

"Tattoo," I said, "remember?" He glanced at Prentiss and I sighed. "She's fine." I added and threw the flask back at him.

He returned it to his pocket then looked at me. "I like your hair."

I sighed. "Why am I here, Ash?"

"Because you came." Ash replied and I frowned. "Because you believe I'm telling the truth."

"Maybe I don't." I said casually. "Maybe I'm here to arrest you."

"You don't take a motor to arrest somebody." Ash said just as casually.

I stared at him for a second before putting the gun back at my belt and marking Prentiss to do the same.

"You don't look like a computer genius." She noted.

"Well, you sure look like a Fed." Ash commented. "How come I've never heard of her?" He asked me.

"She's new." I said and she raised another brow at me. "We talk almost every week." I explained.

"We do." Ash said. "I know everything."

"Not everything." I said. "Or you wouldn't have called me into this mess. Not now."

"Why?" Ash looked genuinely worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I sighed, not wanting to have more pity showered on me. "So, I'll ask again. Why am I here?"

"It's your choice, really." He said. "You either listen to me or you throw me into the pit."

I shifted uncomfortably on my spot from his casual use of the word 'pit' right after John was sent to Hell. I pulled myself out of it rather quickly. I didn't tell him, there was no reason he'd know. Instead, I approached him and pulled him into a tight hug.

He returned it to me without hesitation before pulling away and looking at me. "Is it wrong I want to kiss you right now?" He half laughed.

"Very wrong." I laughed and punched his arm lightly.

Prentiss came closer. "Why does this Labrone guy want you in jail?" She asked.

"His sister went on this... road trip I recommended she'll do and she died." Ash said. "He blames me for it and wants me to pay."

"Isn't that a bit drastic?" Prentiss asked and I sighed while Ash rolled his eyes.

The sister went on a hunt Ash sent her to do and the monster killed her. Now the brother wants revenge.

"People do crazy things because of grief." I said, thinking about how hard I fight not to run after Yellow-Eyes.

"I think he killed the first victim accidentally." Ash said. "And then he tried to put some more murders on me."

"So he's a grieving whacko." I said. "How did he hack your IP address?"

"He got on to it when he came to the Roadhouse one night and kept it from there."

"So he's good." Prentiss said.

"He better be." Ash replied. "I taught him."

"Of course you did." I sighed again.

"How close are you to catching him?" Ash asked.

"We're getting there." I promised. "Actually, Prentiss, why won't you call Hotch to see how they're doing?"

Prentiss raised a brow but did as I asked and I looked at Ash.

"What was the hunt?" I asked.

"Should've been a simple salt and burn." He said. "I don't know why it got messed up."

"Pass it along to someone with experience." I instructed just as Prentiss returned to us.

"They found Labrone." She said. "Hotch wants us back at the station." She glanced at Ash. "All of us."

"How mad is he?" I asked, dreading to find the answer?"

"I'd say twelve, but my scale probably starts as five when it comes to him." Prentiss replied.

"His scale starts at five, always." I informed her.

Now it was Ash who raised a brow. "How bad is he?" He asked.

"Makes Ellen look like a kitten." I said.

"A year's worth of beer on me if you tell her that." Ash said with a smile and I shivered.

"Not gonna happen." I shook my head. "I like living, thank you very much."

* * *

><p>"You lied, again. You kept secrets, again. You met with a fugitive and, worst of all, got Prentiss into your mess." Hotch looked at me severely. I avoided his gaze and instead looked a couple of feet away, where Ash was waiting patiently. "But," he said and I looked right at him, "you didn't withhold any vital information. You stopped us from arresting an innocent man and helped us catch the real killer."<p>

I stared at him with disbelief. "You're not mad?"

"This is your second strike." He said instead of answering the question. "Third one and you're out. And you still have a week off work."

"I don't want it." I said quickly. "I want to come back, today."

"You're taking the week off." Hotch said. "That's an order. Spend the time with your friend; _grieve_, properly, with your friends and family."

"_You're_ my friends and family." I said.

"Diana, what happened today proves more than anything that that's not true." Hotch insisted. "_We_ don't know you. _They_ do."

"They only know the person I was." I corrected. "Someone I've been trying to forget. The person I am now, the woman I became… that's me. And you guys are the ones who know me."

"Diana," Hotch sighed, "one week. Seven days. And after that you are more than welcome to come back, alright?"

"Yes, sir." I said, knowing I lost. I walked out of the room and to where Ash was waiting.

"So…" he said, "how bad?"

"I'm suspended for a week." I replied swiftly, pushing away the small voice in my head by saying half-truths don't count as lying. "I'll stay here for two days before getting on Darlin' and heading back to Virginia."

"What are you gonna do with that time?"

"I was thinking of jumping to say 'hello' to Ellen." I said. "You know, before she kills me."

"That is probably a good idea." Ash laughed.

"Just let me say goodbye to my team first." I add and walk away from him.

"Well," JJ said when I was close enough, "losing your virginity to a mullet who's five years older than you and having your dad punching him for that?"

"To be honest, if I'd have to guess who that happened to, I'd say it was you." Morgan smiled.

"Hey!" I protested. "To my defense, John didn't punch him for my virginity." I smiled wickedly. "He punched him for the two dozen times that followed."

"It was pretty Bad-Ass what you did back there." Prentiss said. "You know, the whole 'you can't pull that crap on me, buddy' you told the other guy."

"Garth." I corrected automatically. "And, yeah, I guess it was."

"Just don't do this whole running-away-to-meet-with-a-fugitive thing ever again, will you?" Garcia asked.

"I promise." I said before heading to Reid, who stood slightly apart from the rest of the team. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I just…" he hesitated, "I see the relationship you have with him, and I know I could never get to anywhere near it."

"It's not a competition, you know." I said.

"I know." He said. "But if it were, I'd lose."

"Listen, Ash and me, we were just one stupid mistake after the other." I said. "This, this friendship we have, it's more than that." He didn't look convinced so I continued. "I've changed. I'm not the same person as I was." He looked confused and I sighed. "When I was eighteen and a half, I was at Ash's room at the Roadhouse, and John arrived. I jumped out of the window wearing nothing but a bed sheet and holding my open bag, searching for clothes when my dad punched Ash. He then followed me to the woods and drove me three states away to the motel my brothers were waiting in."

"Were they the ones you avoided this morning at Bobby's?" Reid asked and it was my turn to be confused. "I was the one who spoke to Bobby on the phone."

"Yes, it was them." I said.

"Will you tell me why you were hiding from them?" He asked.

I smiled softly. "Maybe one day." He looked disappointed. "For now, I'll tell you this: Ash, Bobby, John – they all wanted me to be someone I'm not. And with all their good intentions, I was suffocated. You… you let me be me." I wiped the tears off my eyes and looked away. "I should go."

"Yeah, you should." Reid agreed and I smiled.

I hugged him goodbye before I walked out of the station to where Ash was waiting for me, leaning on Darlin'.

"You coming?" He asked with a smile.

"Two days." I warned and got on the Motor. I started it and drove away, the wind on my body washing out all of my troubles.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN: And we have Ash! Do you think I wrote him good?**

**Answering Reviews (because I really should have done this earlier):**

**Cherri Sin - Diana is not one of Yellow-Eyes' "Special kid", but she is special, that will be further explained at Ch8.**

**Animagirl - I haven't thought of Spencer eavesdropping the conversation, but I liked the idea so much I'm making a couple of small changes to make it fit :)**


	8. Revelations

**A/N:**** Really? No comments on ch7? At all? ~sigh~**

**So I really really hate writing this type of chapters - ones that are based more on show episodes than on my original plot - but i also know that this episode is a major break point for Reid and I wanted to show how Diana affected and was affected by it, too. So be ready, because the chapter you're about to read is based on "Revelations" from Criminal Minds season 2.**

**I hope you'd like it!**

**Warning: This chapter inclludes physical and mental torture, drug use and a character participating in Russian Roulette against his will.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><strong>"All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen."<br>Ralph Waldo Emerson**

"Hi, Uncle Bobby, it's me, just wanted to let you know I left Ash a couple of hours ago. I stopped at a motel for the night and should be back at Virginia sometime tomorrow. I'll call you."

.

"Girl, it's Bobby. Your brothers know something's going on. Call me."

.

"Babe, it's me, call –"

"Is that her?"

"Ellen –"

"GIRL, ARE YOU FRIKKIN' KIDDING ME? YOU WERE HERE FOR THREE DAYS AND NOT ONCE HAVE YOU THOUGHT TO MENTION JOHN _DIED_? I SWEAR TO GOD WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU –"

.

I picked up the phone after it ran off its hook for hours.

"Sorry 'bout that voicemail… as you might've noticed, the boys were here. What is it with the Winchester boys and punching people?" Ash spoke.

"It's not punching people, Ash, it's punching you. More accurately, punching the man who took my virginity."

"I didn't _take_ anything, you gave it all on your own free will."

.

"Uh… hi, it's… it's Sam. I… really don't know what to say. I took the number from Bobby's phone. It's listed under 'Dee', by the way. I… you… who's Chess? Your voicemail, it says Chess. Are you married? I guess you might as well be. I… I think I'll hang up now."

.

"Bobby call me the moment you hear this."

.

"Bobby, it's really important."

.

"Bobby, Sam called me."

.

"By the time I call you, you don't pick up? And what do you mean by 'Sam called'? How did he even get the number?"

.

"I talked to Sam. Dean knows nothing about the call and I made sure it would stay this way. Let me know if you change your mind."

.

"Bobby, call the boys, I think something's going on."

.

"You and I are gonna have a serious talk when this all's over, Dee. How the hell did you know about the trickster?"

.

"Vamp in southern New-York. We called a cold case. Send a hunter."

.

"Taken care of. Call me."

.

"He came again. Blew up a garage and killed four cops and five civilians. My team's fine but he wants me and he won't stop until he gets me. I'm scared."

.

"Babe, the boys are getting closer on Yellow-Eyes. Hang on and take care."

.

"Bobby, answer the damn phone. Are angels real?"

.

"I know what you said, but it just doesn't make sense. Are you sure?"

"I checked everywhere, Dee. No evidence of Angels' existence."

.

"Babe, I checked and there's no such thing as Angels. Sorry I can't help."

"Thanks anyway. I'm gonna go to a possible witness' house with Spence and JJ. I'll call you later."

.

"Chessi, call me as soon as you hear this! Tobias Hankle is the Unsub, get the hell out of there!"

* * *

><p>"It's him!" Reid turned from the window to look at us. "JJ, Chessi, he's the Unsub! He's in the barn!"<p>

"You cover the front." I tell JJ. "And we'll go around the back."

She nodded and then we were running, trying to get to the other side of the barn through the fields. I only stop when I hear the sound of a heavy body falling behind me. I turn around and see Spencer lying on the ground, unconscious, and Hankle standing above him with a gun in his hand.

"Drop your gun." He said.

I could almost see our profile falling to the ground and shudder to pieces at that moment. Hankle was not calm. He was not confident. He was nervous and irrational and I knew if I'd stressed him, he would shoot us.

I secured my gun before dropping it to the ground and pushing it in his direction.

"I tried to warn everyone." He said weakly.

"I know." I replied.

Suddenly, his whole position changed. He held himself a bit taller and looked a bit more confident. His voice was lower, but it wasn't me he spoke to.

"Shoot them! Shoot them, you weakling. They're Satan." He said and blood froze in my veins.

"No!" He said, Tobias again. "There must be a reason why they're here. God brought them here for a reason."

I opened my mouth to speak but held back. Speaking would do no good right now.

"I'm taking them," Tobias said, "and that is final."

"Take me." I said. "Leave… leave him alone, take me."

"Begging will do no good, Satan." The other voice said and Tobias pointed the gun at me.

"Take him to the car." He ordered. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I must."

"I believe you." I said as calmly as I could manage and stepped towards Reid. I checked his pulse and a heavy weight lifted off me when I felt it, strong and steady. I held him by the armpits and dragged him to the car. I put him to the feet of the passenger's seat as I was told and turned to look at Hankle.

He raised the gun again and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes when he changed again.

"The Child of Creation must not be harmed." The voice said and I opened my eyes to stare at him.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"I am Raphael." He said right before the gun hit my head.

There was pain, and then dizziness followed by nothing.

* * *

><p>I sat for hours after I woke up. Hours and hours and hours. Or, at least, so it seemed. Every once in a while, Tobias would come and inject something into my arm, a drug that would give me nightmares that left me more exhausted than usual.<p>

_"Hunting is not for girls!" My father is screaming at an abandoned motel._

_"I hate you! I hate you all!" Eleven-year-old Sam is yelling at me._

_"You ran away?" Dean is shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you disobeyed an order."_

_"You see this key?" Bobby is asking me when I'm sixteen. "You lock me in that room and you don't let me out until you have alcohol for me. Otherwise, I'd hurt you, and it will kill me more than anything."_

_"You'll have to wait for your father to bail him out." Jody is telling me as I desperately try to explain her he won't come anytime soon._

_"Now your hair matches your face!" Some kids at school are laughing and shoving my head in the mud._

_Ash, after I found out he cheated on me._

_And, worst of all, Yellow-Eyes holding my face in his palm and whispering in my ear, "I have big plans for you."_

I wake up from the latest dose of nightmares. My body is aching and cold sweat is covering my skin. I look up and see Tobias standing above me.

Or was it Tobias?

"Raphael?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"We can't talk." He says severely. "Heaven is watching."

"Heaven?" I ask but he isn't listening anymore.

He's Tobias again, nearing me with the needle in his hand. I know trying to fight will do me no good, but I try, I must keep trying. I scream and yell and kick as much as my weak body allows me to before I'm being dragged into the memories once again.

* * *

><p>When I leave the realm of nightmares again, I try and take in as much of my surrounding as I can before Tobias returns. I am seated against a wall, my hands are tied in front of me and I can see a forest spreading to all directions from the cabin Reid talks to someone in.<p>

"Can you really see inside men's minds?" A voice asked. "See these vermin? Choose one to die. I'll let you choose one to live."

From all the things that happened to me in my short life, from fighting Vamps to catching killers, I've never been more afraid than what I was that moment, when that man said those words.

"No." Reid said and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride.

"I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior." The man said.

"You're a sadist and on a psychotic break." Reid somehow manage. "You won't stop killing."

"Your words are not true." The man replied. "The other heathens are watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I'll say the name and address of the person to be saved."

"I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher." Reid answered determinedly.

"Can you really see inside my mind, boy? Can you see I'm not a liar?" He nearly yelled. "Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise, they're all dead."

I could almost hear Reid thinking, considering the possibilities in front of him as the good man inside him is being torn apart by an impossible decision.

"Alright," he finally said, "I'll choose who lives."

Reid made his decision. All that is left is to hope he could live with it.

"They're all the same." The man said, but Spencer and I weren't listening.

"Far right screen."

There was a moment of silence before the man spoke again. "Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creek Road."

For a minute or so, no one spoke, and then Spencer whispered a single word. "Raphael."

"You've done your part." Raphael said. "Now it's my turn."

Raphael walked out, passing me without a glance as he headed to the car. _Was he going to murder someone else?_ I knew I barely had time.

"Spence." I said as loud as I managed. "Spencer, can you hear me?" I tried standing up but my head was spinning. "Spencer!"

"Chessi?" Spencer sounded shaken and broken. "You're… you're alive?"

"Either that or we're both dead and I doubt this is what Heaven is like." I replied grimly. "Are you okay?" I asked when he didn't reply."

"He's going to kill them." He said and I sighed.

"Reid, it's not your fault."

"You've heard." The shame in his voice was too much for me to bare.

"It's not your fault." I repeated. "He's using religion to justify those terrible things he's done. But he's wrong. That's not what religion is about, religion is about –"

"Oh, God." Reid cut me off. "It's… he's doing it."

I waited for Reid to do or say something to let me know everything was okay, but he didn't. Somewhere out there, Raphael was killing someone, and Reid was watching. And there was nothing I could do about it.

We stayed quiet until the Tobias returned, but this time he was neither Tobias nor Raphael.

"Who are you?" I asked and he looked at me.

"Charles." He said. "You slept for a long time."

"What did you give me?" I questioned. "What was that drug?"

Confusion passed over his face, quickly replaced by rage. "My son drugged you?"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked instead of replying.

"You must be purified." He mumbled. I realized it was he who was speaking to Reid earlier, he who told Tobias to shoot us at the field. "The Child of Creation must not be infected by the seed of evil."

"The Child of Creation?" Goosebumps covered my skin. That's what Yellow-Eyes called me.

"From the seed of the writer, the daughter of the hunters will be born. She will be kind, fierce, and brave, as the world has never seen. And who that would have her, shall conquer the world."

I looked at him like he was crazy and, frankly, that's what I thought at the moment. He grabbed me and turned me on my stomach.

"What are you doing?" I asked, dread filling me as I heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled. He didn't answer, but instead he laid down the first stroke on my back. I let out a small gasp at the pain.

"You must be purified." Charles said, stroking me again. "The Child of Creation must be purified."

He kept stroking, harder and harder, and I tried my best not to let out a sound but eventually I did. I succumbed to the only two ways of escape I had left – crying and begging.

"Stop…" Tears ran down from my eyes and onto my cheeks, leaving a clean trail between dust and sweat. "Please, stop."

And he did. The belt fell on the ground with a 'clang' and the man who leaned next to me was not Charles, but Tobias.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I'm sorry he hurt you."

"Can you… can you take me in?" I asked between sobs. "I- I'll behave. I'll stop fighting. I'll let you give me that- that drug. I won't tell Charles, I won't do anything to annoy him, I promise. Just let me see Spencer."

I could see the hesitation on his face and wondered if I should say anything else when he spoke.

"Make it quick." He instructed. "Before my father returns."

I nodded and he helped me to my feet and opened the door. I stumbled in until I dropped to my knees in front of where Reid sat.

"Diana?" He asked. "Why… why are you crying?"

"It doesn't matter." I whispered. "We don't have much time before Charles comes back and I wanted to see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine." He said and I managed a fake smile to ease his nerves.

"Don't lie to me." I said. "I know you too well and I know they gave you the drug, too. How are you?"

"It's hard." Spencer replied. "To see all those things… to live them again."

"I know it's hard." I said. "But it's only temporarily. Soon enough, the team will find us, and this will be over." I took his hands in mine. "Take a deep breath and don't let him get to you."

"Hey!" Charles cold voice made me jump back in fear. "How did you get in here?" He asked.

"I snuck inside."

"Liar!"

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to the corner of the cabin. "_He_ let you in, didn't he? My good for nothing son!" He looked frantic and crazed, and for the first time since I arrived I was honest-to-God scared for my life. "Answer me!"

"I let myself in." I insisted and he pulled out his gun.

"Let God be the judge for your lies." He said, inserting a bullet and pointing it at me. Russian Roulette. For a moment, he was Raphael again, telling Charles not to harm me and then Charles looked at me like dirt that stuck under his shoe. "Maybe I can't do anything to you, he said, but that doesn't mean I can't do anything to _him_." And to my dread, he pointed the gun at Spencer.

I looked between him, the gun and Spencer for a couple of moments before Charles tightened his grip on the gun and prepared to pull the trigger. I was ashamed at myself when I spoke.

"Don't!" I called, before I started crying again. "I lied. It was Tobias who let me in." I looked at Spencer though he couldn't see me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Charles changed the aim of the gun and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang in the small space and left a hole in one of the walls.

"Next time," he said, "you won't get a chance to change your mind. I know Raphael said you're untouchable," he pointed at Reid, "but he isn't. And if that's what I have to do to make you obey, I will."

Once again, he changed to Tobias, who kneeled next to me and sent me to the land of dreams.

* * *

><p>When I woke up again, Reid's chair was on the floor, he was coughing and Tobias leaned next to him, panting.<p>

"What happened?" I asked and Reid turned to look at me.

Tobias ignored me and lifted the chair back to where it was in front of the screens.

"You came back to life." He said and both Spencer and I looked surprised.

"Raphael." Seriously, the speed in which he changes personalities is giving me a headache.

"There can only be one of two reasons." Raphael continued, ignoring us.

"I was given CPR." Reid said and Raphael glared at him.

"There are no accidents." He looked between us. "How many members are on your team? The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to earth, leaving the Child of Creation on her own."

I looked at them, not wanting to miss a single word Raphael's saying.

"Tell me who you serve."

Reid looked at him pointedly. "I serve you."

"Then choose one to die." Raphael said.

"What?" Reid and I asked together.

"Your team members." Raphael continued. "Choose one to die."

"Kill me." Reid replied without hesitation.

"You said you weren't one of them." Raphael said.

"I lied."

Raphael took out the gun and inserted a new bullet. "Your team has six other members." He said. "Tell me who dies."

"No."

Raphael pressed the trigger for the first time, and no bullet came out. "Choose, and prove you'll do God's will."

"No." Reid insisted and Raphael pulled the trigger again.

"Choose." He raised his voice.

"I won't do it." third time already. Reid's chances are growing thin.

"Life is a choice."

"No."

It was a fifty-fifty chance by now, and I couldn't take it anymore. So when Raphael said, "choose," one more time, I'm the one breaking.

"I choose Aaron Hotchner." Reid is looking at me, surprised, and my voice break when I remember the conversation we had had with Hotch the other day. "He's a classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4," I continue, hoping to everything I hold dear I am right, "'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for these shall be his recompense for God's will."

He pulled the trigger one more time against the wall and my eardrums felt like they were going to blow up from the sound of gunfire.

He looked at us again and I heard Reid talk.

"Tobias? Is it you?" He hesitated for less than a moment. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"I'm sorry." Tobias said.

"Why?" Spencer asked.

"He'll win in the end." Tobias replied, drugging Reid once again before heading to me.

"Tobias, I need to know something. It's important." I said. "Are we in a cemetery?"

"Yes." He said. "I used to come here to get high. No one bothers you here, I never told anyone about it."

He inserted the needle to my arm and I was pulled away from consciousness with one clear thought in my mind. _I was right._

* * *

><p>I was alone in the cabin.<p>

That was the first thing I noticed when I woke up – the absence of Tobias in his variations but more than that, the absence of Spencer. His chair was empty, the ropes that bind him in his place gone. The screens behind him were all black and the strong smell of burning internals started to fade.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

I heard people outside and hope of being rescued appeared on the surface.

"Help!" I called as loud as I can. My hoarse voice made it to barely more than a whisper. "Help!" I tried again, slightly stronger this time but whomever it was that was running outside didn't hear me.

The voices disappeared into the distance and I curled into a ball on the floor. My shirt felt like it was glued to my back and I couldn't tell if it was from sweat or anything else. I heard the sound of a gunshot but in the state I was in I couldn't tell if it was near or miles away.

I closed my eyes and prayed that Reid was alright. The cabin door opened but I kept my eyes closed, thinking it was Charles who came to hurt me or Raphael who talked in riddles. But when the person spoke I realized it was neither.

"Chess?" Hotch's voice arrived at my ears. "Chessi, can you hear me?"

"We need to take care of her back or it will be infected." Gideon said and I forced my eyes to open.

"Spence." I croaked. "Where's Spencer?"

"He's safe." Hotch said, relief in his voice. "And so are you."

"Tobias?"

"Dead." Gideon replied and I didn't know if I felt sad for his death, or happy because Charles died with him. I also felt anger at Raphael, who disappeared without explanation before I remembered he wasn't real.

Just the creation of a tortured mind.

"You understood." I told Hotch. "I knew you would."

Gideon lifted me in his arms and I gasped at the sharp pain in my back but he talked to calm me down.

"I know it hurts," he said, "but we need to take you to the ambulance."

He kept talking and I focused on his words, closing my eyes and letting the calm voice relax me to sleep.

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><p><strong><span>AN: Wow, that was hard. Did you think it was good? I'm considering doing more of those, and I'm wondering if you think I should. Review and let me know!**


	9. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Supernatural, I also do not own any songs mentioned or quoted in this chapter.**

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><p><strong>"Now all I have I count it all as loss<br>But to know you and to carry the cross  
>Knowing I'm found<br>In the light of the aftermath."**

**Hillsong United, A****_ftermath_**

"If you force me to take days off again I will jump out that window." I warned Hotch when he entered my hospital room the day the doctors sign my release papers.

"Actually," he said, "Morgan and I came to take you straight to Quantico."

"We got a new case." Morgan said from where he stood at the door. "Do you want to come?"

"Hell, yes!" I replied with a smile and nearly jumped off the bed and on the wheelchair. "I think I might die of boredom if I stayed here one more minute."

Morgan laughed and pushed me out of the hospital.

"I don't understand why I had to stay here for so long." I said. "Reid got released after a day."

"Reid didn't have cuts all over his back." Hotch replied calmly. "And when we found him, he was conscious, unlike you."

I wanted to say something about the ridiculously high amount of drugs that was in my system when they found me, but decided to say nothing.

If Reid didn't tell them, he must have had his reasons.

Morgan helped me to the car and I leaned on the backseat window while Hotch was driving us.

"Turn up the volume." I said in respond to the music coming out of the radio. "I love that song."

Morgan did as I asked and the music filled the SUV.

"Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray,  
>South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio." I sang with the tune.<p>

To my surprise, Morgan joined me.

"Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, television  
>North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe."<p>

"Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom  
>Brando, 'The King and I' and 'The Catcher in the Rye.'" We sang together.<p>

"Eisenhower."

"Vaccine."

"England's got a new queen."

"Marciano."

"Liberace."

"Santayana goodbye!"

We started singing loudly, our voices so strong you could barely hear the music in the background. Needless to say, none of us were very good at it.

"We didn't start the fire,  
>It was always burning<br>Since the world's been turning.

We didn't start the fire,  
>No we didn't light it<br>But we tried to fight it!"

By the time we reached Quantico, Hotch looked like he will murder us. After "We Didn't Start the Fire" there was "American Pie" by Don McLean and Bad Company's "Movin' On", all of which songs I know by heart from years of driving in the car with John and Dean, singing along with the music.

"You know good music." I told Morgan when he, despite my protests, helped me out of the car.

"I know my fair share of it." He replied with a smile. "How do you know Classic Rock?"

"Loads of road trips as a child." I replied. "My dad had all these cassettes of Nirvana, Black Sabbath, Motorhead. Along with the regular classics – Queen, Rolling stones, Red Hot Chili Peppers, a bit of Beatles."

"And American Pie?" He asked, amused.

"I want to see you say no to a seven year old Sammy with those big, round puppy eyes." I shrugged, leaning at the elevator wall. Despite all my protests, I still feel weak and it's rather hard to stand up for long periods of time.

"I'd love to meet those brothers of yours one day." Morgan said. I glanced at Hotch, knowing that even if he doesn't seem like he's listening, he is.

"Trust me," I said carefully, "you don't."

"Why not?"

"Just…" I sighed as we reached the BAU floor. "You just don't, okay?"

"If you say so." Morgan raised his brow and stepped out of the elevator. "I should warn you, Garcia is a bit –"

"Chessi!" Garcia jumped on me with a hug practically the moment she saw me. "Oh my God, I was so worried, don't you dare to do anything like that ever again!"

"I have a bit of de-ja-vu." I smiled, holding on to her in order to keep my balance.

She let go of me and looked into my eyes. "Maybe you should start listening, then."

"I'll keep that in mind." I said and moved to hug Prentiss and JJ in turn. I turned to Gideon, who nodded at me and returned the nod with a smile. Only then, I realized someone was missing. "Where's Reid?"

"He went to the restroom." Prentiss said. "Should be back any moment now."

"There he is." JJ said, and I looked behind me at the direction she was pointing to.

Almost instantly, I realized something was wrong. Very wrong.

He seemed off, un-Spencer like and nervous, he was just putting something in his bag and he seemed stressed when he noticed we were looking at him, increasing his pace to arrive next to us faster. I looked at him, uncertain of what should I do.

"Hey." I said hastily.

"Hey." He replied awkwardly. "You're feeling better?"

"Yes. I just got discharged."

An awkward silence followed that saying, only disturbed when Hotch coughed to get our attention.

"We have a case." He said, glancing at us worryingly and we immediately went to the conference room.

* * *

><p>Days kept going on like that, awkwardness combined with worry between the two of us. By the end of the case, I was suspecting but after two weeks back on the team, I knew for sure – Spencer was using.<p>

The moment I got to that realization, his behavior since I was back on the team explained itself, and though I was worried like hell, I knew going straight to Hotch, Gideon or worse, Straws, would bring nothing but trouble for all of those involved.

Instead, I decided to talk to him.

"Spence, can you talk?" I asked when we got back from a case in Missouri.

"I need to go to –"

"Please?" I looked at him and hoped he won't turn me down and he sighed and pulled me aside.

"What is it?" He asked, impatiently.

"I wanted to ask you…" I wondered how I could say it without making it seem like I'm accusing him. "The doctors said the drug Tobias was giving us was Dilaudid." I ignored the way he flinched when I said our kidnapper's name.

"So?" He looked as if there is no place he would rather be less than here.

"It's highly addictive, especially in doses like we received. At a matter of fact, it's recommended not to take without prescription." Reid continued to look at me, waiting for me to get to my point. So I did. "Are you still using it?"

"Diana…" He sighed, and I waited for him to deny, to call me crazy, to do something, but he didn't.

"You are, aren't you?" I asked. "You're still using. You're…" I didn't know what to say or do. Yes, I had suspected it, but I couldn't but hope that I was overreacting. Hope that I was wrong.

"And if I am?" He asked.

"Then stop." I said. "Stop, before it's too late. That… that drug is life threatening, Reid. One wrong dose, one drop too much and it will kill you. You know, except for all of the other issues."

"What other issues?"

"The fact that you've turned into an addict." I said. "The fact that it's clouding your judgments and your mind, that beautiful, brilliant mind of yours. You're ruining it, you know. You can't stop thinking about it, you can't do anything else. Even now…" I took a deep breath. "All you can think about is getting home and getting high again."

"You don't understand." Spencer said.

"Then explain." I said. "Let me in."

"You don't understand." He said again.

"What don't I understand?" I asked. "I was there, too. I was drugged, too. I was tortured, just like you were."

"Not like me." He whispered.

"What?"

"I said," he raised his voice, "not like me. You were, you were untouchable. Raphael kept you safe, he didn't let Charles hurt you. and maybe it didn't always work but I had nobody. I was alone, all alone in there with Charles torturing me, Tobias drugging me and Raphael making me choose which one of our teammates he should kill. But it was easier on you, wasn't it? You just blurted the first name that came to your mind, sacrificing Hotch as if he was filth. Like he never meant anything, like you don't _care_!"

"Don't you dare!" I called. "Don't you _dare_ say it was easy on me! Don't you _dare_ say I sacrificed Hotch! And don't you _dare_ say you were alone! I did the best I could to keep you safe, and my best wasn't much, but it was something. I gave Hotch a clue as to where we were – In a cemetery. I only said a name, because you wouldn't and maybe you didn't mind dying, but I couldn't see you die! And I don't know why Raphael said I'm untouchable and why he didn't let Charles hurt me, but it wasn't my fault."

"You don't know?" He asked. "I heard you guys talking. This 'Child of Creation' thing they told you! And you were playing their game!"

"I was trying to keep us alive!"

"Were you trying to keep us alive when you talked to my mom? I heard you," he added in respond to my confused looks, "Special Kids, Demons and Hell, Souls. You're feeding her Schizophrenia!"

"I was just talking –"

"You believed it! You _still_ believe it! The Devil's Trap on your doorknob, the salt under your windows, you're just as crazy as she is!" He stopped, realizing what he just said and looking at me with shock. "Chessi…"

"I'm going to forgive you for that," I said, my voice breaking, "because I know it's the drugs talking and not you. But think about it, think about what you just said."

I turned to walk and Spencer called after me, "Where are you going?"

"Home." I said. "Away from you. and don't you dare go anywhere near me until you're clean."

* * *

><p>"Reid is off lately." Prentiss said one day, when we worked the case of a woman copying murders made by Jack the Ripper.<p>

We were in New Orleans and last night, Reid missed a flight to go question the fiancé of one of the victims.

"Yeah." I said, going over what little we had left after Catharina Hurricane. "I guess he is."

"Did you talk to him about it?" She asked and I laughed hollowly.

"Reid and I… we don't do much talking nowadays."

"Why?" Prentiss looked surprised.

"It's complicated." I said, shrugging it off. Even after all of what he said to me, the way he treated Prentiss and the fact he couldn't even look any of us in the eyes, I still hadn't ratted him off about the drugs.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." I said. "We should head out to meet this Smith guy." I added, walking out to the SUV.

The cop was hideous. He avoided answering our questions and kept saying nasty comments to poor LaMontagne Jr. about his old man. Eventually, I've had enough.

"Do you mind telling us what happened?" I asked, pissed off.

He gave me a hard stare before replying. "My best recollection, she said she was sitting at the bar with two friends." He said. "One of the boys asked her if she wanted to play some pool. Witnesses claimed she was up for anything."

"She followed him up here?" Gideon asked.

"His friend not far behind." Smith continued casually. "She knew he was there, the girl was a tease. She was looking for a good time." I tried my hardest not to punch him in the throat. "Anyway, a couple of guys were going along with that."

"Did she yell for help?" I heard Prentiss say.

"She said she did. But not a single person claimed they heard her."

"That's what you registered as a disturbance?" I asked, disgusted.

"It was Mardi Gras." He said as if it explains it all. "Listen to me," he continued, seeing the looks on our faces, "that girl had enough beads handing from her neck to jewel a small city. Anyone exposing themselves that much in one day is not a credible witness in my book."

"I'll be waiting outside." I told Hotch before I will hurt Smith. I exited and sat on a bench nearby until the rest followed. Gideon immediately approached me.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"No." I answered honestly, even if not because of the obvious reasons.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He tried.

"No." My voice broke. Now was neither the time or place to discuss everything that I was going through lately. "I want off the case."

"Mind if I ask why?"

"I don't think I can be objective, and I fear it may cloud my judgment." I lied smoothly.

"Are you sure?" Gideon asked and I nodded. "Well, then, I know a great place you can wait at. A small bar, it has this Saxophone player… kid's got talent."

I nodded and he gave me the address. I went there and sat next to one of the tables, drinking beer and listening to the tune of the Jazz music. After a couple of songs, the player arrived and sat in front of me.

"What does a fine woman like you do in a place like that?" He asked and I laughed.

"I bet you say that to every girl you see sitting alone." I said.

"Not to _every_ girl." He said, mock hurt. "Only the beautiful ones."

I smiled and reached my hand for a shake. "I'm Diana." I said.

He took my hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on my palms. "Ethan." He said. "Pleasure to meet you." He lets go of my hand and marks the bartender, ordering a beer of his own. "So," he said, "what _does_ a woman like you do in a place like that?"

"I needed a break." I said. "Wanted to clear my mind and a friend suggested I come here. I think he knew I was lying to him to get away, but he spoke very highly of you."

"I like him already." Ethan said. "A friend, or a _friend_?" He added.

"Just a friend." I replied.

"I like him even more."

I laughed again, looking deep into his deep, blue eyes. He smiled at me and opened his mouth to say something when the bar owner called him back up.

"I gotta go." He said, pulling himself back on the stage, and playing two whole songs looking at nobody but me.

It went like that for a while. Ethan would come, talk to me, drink with me, and then go up on the stage again. He dedicated almost every song to me, and I were almost hypnotized by the music, as different from what I was used to as it was.

At a certain point, I felt the presence of someone standing next to me. I ignored it, keeping my eyes on Ethan and smiling.

"Hey." I looked up to see Reid and the smile fell on my face.

"Hey, man." Ethan said, still smiling and heading towards us with a new round of beers. "I want you to meet the beautiful, talented Diana." He looked at me flirtatiously and I smiled again. "Diana, this is Spencer, a childhood friend of mine."

"We know each other." I said. "He's on my team."

"Is that so?" Ethan asked, raising a brow and I blushed.

"Diana is my best friend." Spencer said. "I mean, if she still wants the job." I looked at him, confused. "I've been an ass lately –"

"That you have."

"- but I want to say I'm sorry." Spencer continued as if I hadn't interrupted. "I forgot you were going through a rough time, too. And instead of supporting each other, I jumped off and left you there alone."

"Are you…" I wondered how to say it without telling Ethan what he was going through.

"I am better." He said, glancing at Ethan. "At least, I'm willing to get better."

"Let's celebrate, then!" Ethan called. "Next round on me! The three after that are on you, Spencer."

I laughed and grabbed my drink as Spencer mumbled something about not wanting to drink and Ethan rolled his eyes.

I got my friend back.

* * *

><p>But solving Reid's problem didn't solve all of my problems.<p>

I still avoided Dean and Sam, excusing it as fulfilling John's wish. However, a small voice in the back of my head just wouldn't take that reason.

_You never listened to John._ It said._ What suddenly changed?_

He died. And that was the last thing he asked me to do – to step back until Yellow-Eyes is dead.

_Is that why you didn't contact them all those years? Is this the reason you left and never looked back?_

The answer was simple – no. I left and never looked back, never contacting them and avoiding them when I feared our paths were close to crossings because John was _alive_. I was a hypocrite, and I knew it, but I couldn't bring myself to changing it.

A couple of weeks after Reid was put back together, we worked on the bizarre case of two siblings hunting humans for sports. I tried to keep objective and unaffected, and to minimize the number of times when I let the team know the experience I had with hunting, but a couple of words Hotch said about the Unsubs got stuck in my mind, refusing to leave me alone.

"Imagine what it's like, being raised by a madman telling you what to do and who to hunt."

The words hunted me for the rest of the case and the flight back home. That's us. Sammy, Dean and me, we didn't have to imagine it. That was the life we were living, ever since I was four.

I tried to push it away with music, letting the playlist run shuffle and waiting for a good song. I leaned back and looked out the window – I was getting better on this whole fear of flights thing, trying not to think of the fact that the more we are flying them, the greater the odds for us to crash – when one of my favorite songs started playing.

The song playing was Kansas' "Carry On My Wayward Son" and I was never quite sure how it got to my music player, but listening to it gave me Goosebumps and brought tears to my eyes as if my body knew something my mind didn't.

"Carry on my wayward son,  
>There'll be peace when you are done<br>Lay your weary head to rest  
>Don't you cry no more."<p>

I thought about the people I left behind when I ran away.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion  
>Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion<br>I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high"

I thought of John, whose heart broke that day for the second time, the first being my mother's death. He said I looked like her and that he just wanted to protect me, and I turned around and didn't listen.

"Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man  
>Though my mind could think I still was a mad man<br>I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,  
>I can hear them say."<p>

I thought of Sam. Innocent, sweet Sam who was a part of Yellow-Eyes' plan all along. Sam, whom I left in that nightmare life John was leading us into. It took him four years to get out, and even that was only for so long before the life violently pulled him back in. I thought of the voice mail I got a couple of months back, before the Hankle case. It seemed ages ago and I wished I didn't ask Bobby to tell him off.

"Carry on my wayward son,  
>There'll be peace when you are done<br>Lay your weary head to rest  
>Don't you cry no more."<p>

And I thought of Dean. I thought of my other half, my better half who was left behind. When we were young, we used to be told how similar we are to each other but with every day that passes, I can see we're not. He is better than I am. He stayed. He is helping people. And me? I am selfish.

_30 days._ I tell myself. _If in 30 days, there is no progress on killing Yellow-Eyes, I am calling the boys._

I was first off the jet, as usual, but last to enter the bullpen area. My mind was so occupied I didn't even notice the man who stood by my table until I noticed the picture he was holding in his hand. I yanked it out of his grasp and put it back on the table.

"Don't touch my stuff." I muttered.

"They grew nicely." The man replied.

"Who did?"

"Dean and Sam." He said. "Changed a bit since they were teens."

"How do you know them?" I asked, not trusting this stranger who came in uninvited and knew the brothers I tried to hide.

"How rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself." He reached a hand forward with a smile. "Agent Henriksen, FBI."

I didn't take the offered hand. "I asked how do you know them."

"I'm working on their case." Henriksen replied. "They're fine, don't worry. The people the murdered, not so much."

"Murdered?" I repeated. "They wouldn't do something like that."

"Do you mind coming with me to answer some questions?"

"Actually," I said, suddenly very aware to the fact that my teammates were looking at us, trying to respect my privacy and not eavesdrop but somewhat failing, "I do."

"In that case, SSA Chess, I'm sorry," Henriksen pulled out a pair of handcuffs and forced them on me, "but you are under arrest."

"Based on what accusations?" Hotch asked, running towards us.

"Abstraction of a federal investigation." Henriksen replied. "Withholding evidence. Assisting fugitives." He smiled viciously. "And anything else that comes to my mind."

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN:**** So I finally had time to see the 200th episode. I laughed so hard!**

**And so I did this chapter in music-relation: The quote on the beggining is from a sweet song called Aftermath, preformed by Hillsong United and I really wanted her to sing "We Didnt Start the Fire" at least once and, come on, I had to put "Carry On" in there.**

**This chapter was not beta'd, please let me know what you think of it anyway :)**


	10. Henriksen

**A/N:**** So I'm late again, I know... life happens. I hope you'd like the next one!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Superatural.**

* * *

><p><strong>"Loyalty is the pledge of truth to oneself and others."<br>Ada Velez-Boardley**

"I have a right for legal counsel." I said as soon as Henriksen entered the small interrogation room I was held in. "I want to use it to call a lawyer."

"And you will." Henriksen replied. "As soon as I finish talking. Sam Winchester, born May 2nd 1983, and Dean Winchester, born January 24th 1979. Same date as yours. I guess your parents weren't very creative with name choices, were they? Naming their kids Dean and Diana. What do you think, Diana?"

"I have the right to remain silence." I said coldly, waiting for Hotch to come in as my attorney. "And it's SSA Chess for you."

"Right." He replied. "You, unlike them, earned that title. Not that it stops them from using it as they please. Impersonating a federal agent, that's a federal offense, you know.

"I have the right to remain silent."

"Not that it's the only charge pressed against them." Henriksen continued. "Mail fraud, credit card fraud, breaking and entering, assaulting an officer, grave desecration, kidnapping and murder." He finished the list and looked at me. "Last year Dean-o murdered three innocent women. We tracked him down and killed him."

He took out the pictures of the crime scenes and showed them to me, finishing with the picture of Dean's dead body. I noted the burns around the cut in his arm and looked back at Henriksen with a mask of emotionless on my face. _Shifter_, I thought, _Not Dean._

"Lawyer." I said, talking more to Hotch whom I knew was waiting on the other side of the glass. "Now."

Hotch entered the room and shot an angry look at Henriksen. "Sorry I'm late." He said and I already knew him well enough to know he was lying.

"So Dean's dead." I said. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, about two months ago there was an _incident_ at a bank in Milwaukee, Wisconsin." Henriksen said. "I arrived at the scene." He pulled out a speaker and played a recording.

_"This is special agent Victor Henriksen."_ The recording played.

_"I'm not really in a negotiating mood." _My heart skipped a bit at the sound of Dean's voice.

"Do you recognize this voice, agent?" Henriksen asked.

I looked at Hotch before replying. "That's Dean."

_"Good. Me neither. It's my job to bring you in."_ Henriksen's voice on the recording continued. _"Alive's a bonus, but not necessary."_

_"That's harsh for a federal agent, don't you think?"_

_"Well, you're not the typical suspect, are you, Dean? I want you and Sam out here unarmed, or we come in. And, yes," _he added,_ "I know about Sam - Bonnie to your Clyde."_

_"Yeah, well, that part's true,"_ Dean's angry voice said, _"but how'd you even know we were here?"_

_"I wonder if there are any more Winchesters out there."_

_"Go screw yourself."_

_"I'll take that as a yes. You know, it became my job to know about you, Dean. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis, the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts."_ He paused for a moment. _"I know about your dad."_

My fists clenched inside the cuffs as I fought hard not to scream at Henriksen. Luckily, Dean did it for me.

_"You don't know crap about my dad." _He growled.

_"Ex-Marine, raised his kids on the road,"_ a short pause, _"two of his kids, at least. Cheap motels, backwoods cabins - real paramilitary survivalist type."_ There was clear mocking in his voice._ "I just can't get a handle on what type of wacko he was -White Supremacist, Timmy McVeigh. Tomato, tomahto."_

I rose to a standing position, the cuffs cutting my hands and Hotch rising next to me in order to hold me back if necessary.

"You got no right talking 'bout my dad like that!" I screamed. "He was a hero!"

Henriksen, who was still seated, smiled smugly as he re-winded the recording to Dean's response on his insults.

_"You got no right talking 'bout my dad like that."_ Dean said. _"He was a hero."_

I fell back down on my chair, all of the fighting spirit out of me.

"There's something I've always wondered about psychopaths." Henriksen said. "Maybe you can help me, you do work with them daily." He leaned forward in his chair. "Is it genetic? Because if it is, I wonder what it means for twins –"

"Enough." Hotch said loud and clear, speaking for the first time since he entered the room. "I'd like to have a word with my client. Alone."

Henriksen walked out the room and Hotch looked at me.

"I asked Garcia to do a background check on you." He said.

I looked at him with big, disbelieving eyes. "You _what_?"

"She didn't call me with the results yet so I wanted to know…" He hesitated. "Will she find anything?"

"No!" I called.

"None of the felonies your brothers are accused of?" He asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" I said. "Hotch, are you kidding me?"

"Not even…" That hesitation crossed his face again, this time accompanied with slight guilt. "Not even in your junior records?"

I looked at him angrily. "Junior records should be sealed."

"Nothing is sealed for Garcia." He replied shortly.

"You could've told me you had them, Hotch! I would've explained!" I glared at him. "Why the lying? Some trust test?" He is silent and I gasp. "You're trust-testing me? Again? What the hell, Hotch?"

"Why were you lying?" He asked instead.

"How would you look at me, knowing the truth?" I asked. "I worked _so_ hard trying to leave that behind me, trying to get better! And I just _knew_ you'd think I'm lying to you about not knowing where Dean and Sam are!"

"Are you?" He questioned.

"No!" I call, seriously pissed off.

"Would you take a Polygraph test for it?"

"Yes." He looked at me with surprise and I shrugged. "I've got nothing to hide."

Not the best way to start a lie detector test – by saying a lie.

* * *

><p>"Please state your name and date of birth to the record."<p>

"Diana Milly Chess, January 24th 1979."

"The name of your parents?"

"John and Mary Winchester. Both deceased."

"Any brothers?"

"Dean and Sam Winchester, currently wanted by the FBI."

"We can cut down the side comments." Hotch whispered in my ear and I nodded.

"Current profession?"

"Supervisory Special Agent at the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Behavior Analysis Unit." The words rolled on my tongue playfully, but I let it. _Who knows if I'll still have the job tomorrow._

"When is the last time you contacted either of your brothers?"

"Nine years and seven months ago." I smile cheekily. "But hey, who's counting?"

"Were you aware of the charges pressed against them?"

"Not until Agent Henriksen informed me."

"How much is two times nineteen?"

"Thirty eight."

"When did your brothers last see you?"

"Nine years and seven months ago."

"When is the last time you had had a long-term relationship?"

"Relevance?" Hotch asked.

"Trying to establish a solid base for the test."

"Try with something else."

"Square root of two hundred and twenty five?"

"Fifteen."

"What kind of music do you like listening to?"

"Classic Rock."

"What is your mother's maiden name?"

"Campbell."

"What was your father's job?"

"He was a Mechanic."

"What was your mother's job?"

"She was a housewife, but she died when I was four."

"What did she die from?"

"A house fire."

"What did your father die from?"

"A car accident."

"When was that?"

"Five months ago."

"When did you last contact him?"

"When he was at the hospital, before he passed away." Hotch looked at me, surprised. "We spoke over the phone."

"Were your brothers there with him?"

"I don't know. He didn't mention it."

"When is the last time you saw your brothers?"

"Five months ago, at our Uncle Bobby's house."

Everybody stopped and looked at me with shock.

"You said you haven't contacted them in ten years."

"I haven't."

"You said they haven't seen you in ten years."

"That is true."

"So how could you see them and they not see you?"

"I hid under the sink."

They all look at me, expecting me to laugh or anything, but I don't. They asked for the truth, they got it.

"Are you saying that after not seeing your brothers for nearly a decade, you avoided meeting them after your father's death?"

"See them and say what? 'I'm sorry I bailed on you guys and ran away, not bothering to pick up the damn phone when you called me, let alone call _you_ during those nine-and-a-friggin'-half years but let's forget all of that and just sit down to exchange stories of our lost time'?" I lean back in my chair. "Sorry. My family doesn't do chick flicks moments."

They stare at me for a minute or so before Hotch breaks the silence.

"I believe this interrogation is over."

* * *

><p>"So," I asked a couple of hours later when Hotch and Henriksen entered the interrogation room again, "can I go now?"<p>

Henriksen sat in front of me.

"Help us." He said. "Contact your brothers, tell them to turn themselves in, find out where they are and we will not charge you with anything."

That was his final resort and we all knew it. He got nothing on me – how many times have we tried to pull this trick off? – and now he's just trying to use me against my brothers.

"Charge me with what?" I asked. "In all of my time at the BAU, I've never seen anyone being put up to trial for the felonies their siblings supposedly did. Siblings they have not seen in years, by the way. And I doubt today will be the first."

"I can charge you with helping a fugitive." He declared.

"Fugitives who assume I'm probably dead?" I asked.

"Obstructing a federal investigation."

"Try again." I laughed. "I did all you asked me to do. So I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me go now." I lifted my still cuffed hands. "These hurt."

Henriksen sighed and released my hands, and I rubbed it where the metal started to cut into my skin. Wordlessly, I stood up and left the room without a spare glance at either of the two men who were still there. Hotch followed closely after.

"Worst. Lawyer. Ever." I say as we walk outside and towards the SUV in which he arrived. "I can see why you didn't make a profession out of it. Shouldn't you, I don't know, _help me_?"

"What was the thing you said during the Polygraph?" He asked.

"I meant it. Two times nineteen is thirty eight." I say humorously and sit inside.

"Not that. What happened in there?"

"Henriksen was a jerk. You weren't help -"

"And neither were you." He cut me off. "Why?"

"They're family." I said simply. "Family sticks together."

"You left them ten years ago." Hotch said.

"Doesn't make them any less family." I retorted. "Does it make me a rubbish sister? Yes."

"Where is this certain loyalty is coming from?" He asked.

"The same place it will come from if any of you will need it. Tomorrow… or in ten years." I sighed. "I left because of John. Cutting my brothers off was just… collateral damage."

"Walking away from your brothers is collateral damage?" He asked, clearly shocked.

"Not talking about it." I said.

"Why?"

"Don't do that." I looked at him. "This whole act as if you are better than me… how is the relationship with _your_ brother, Aaron?" He clenched his jaw and I sighed. "Look, I'm really tired, can I just go home? I was interrogated all night long and we had a case before that. I can really use some sleep."

"That will have to wait." Hotch said. "Strauss wants to see you."

I sighed and put my head on the window.

"So I'm fired, nothing new here." He looked at me questioningly. "Strike three, Hotch. I knew it the moment Henriksen put those cuffs on."

"It wouldn't have happened if you'd just tell us about your childhood." Hotch replied. "I know it's hard –"

"No offense, but you really don't." I sigh. "You think you know, but you don't. Being abused as a child? Having an alcoholic father who beats you repeatedly? The stories of some of the guys we catch are fairytales next to what my childhood was like. Not that it can be called childhood."

The SUV stops at the Quantico parking lot and he turns to look at me. I look straight into his eyes.

"My childhood was over when I was four." I said. "From that moment on, I was a grown-up, simply because I had no choice other than to be. I took care of my brothers, the best that I could. When my dad would return to whatever trashy motel we were staying at this time, with cuts and bruises, I'd patch him up. I found out about the changes my body goes through during puberty on my own, not before I was certain I was about to die. And that's just the tip of it." I sighed. "It's not something you can just talk about."

"You just did." He said with that smile of his, the one you can't see if you don't know him well.

I came to the realization that he had let me in, too. Slowly but steadily, during the past two years or so, my team members, my new family, let me into the dark corners of their past. Just as I let them into mine.

"Well," I said, "maybe I'm not entirely hopeless."

* * *

><p>"Sit." Strauss said as I walked into her office, gesturing to the chair in front of her.<p>

I sat and looked at her, strangely calm. It can be oddly relaxing to know you are being fired.

"I didn't want you here to begin with. You have authority issues, not uniquely brilliant and easy to hate." I flinched as she read from my file. "I told agent Hotchner that you would cause nothing but trouble and that the team doesn't need an extra member. As it turns out, I was right. Disobeying a direct order from your chief of unit in the favor of a family member? Keeping information away from your team to assist an ex-boyfriend? You should have been fired long ago." She looked at me. "And now this. Getting arrested and being the sister of _the_ Winchester brothers, and possibly assisting them."

"I had not seen my brothers in –"

"And I don't care." She cut me off.

Something didn't feel right. Strauss could be a bitch sometimes but she would at least give me the chance to defend myself.

"You are not good enough!" Her words cut like knives through my heart. "You are nothing! You should just be left behind!"

Something was wrong. This wasn't Strauss. This was something else entirely.

"Christo." I murmured and the demon flinched. I shot up to my feet, ready to fight but she only beamed at me.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"I've met enough demons to know the difference." I said, reaching inside my boot where I had a hidden bottle of holy water at all times since my first encounter with Yellow-Eyes. I tried to pour some on her but she escaped.

"I knew you were smart." She said, still smiling. "I knew it even back then."

I am torn between the curiosity to know and the need to perform the exorcism before the demon can cause Strauss any further damage.

"Back then?" I question.

"When you were twelve, don't you remember?" She acts mock-hurt. "I'm offended."

"You're lying." I said. "You couldn't have gotten to me when I was twelve, that's just when I moved to Bobby's."

"Why do you think you moved there?" She asked. "Dear Johnny-Boy kept telling you it was in order to protect you, but why did he suddenly think of that?"

Thoughtlessly, I started mumbling the Exorcism Spell.

"You were too close to the line of fire!" The Demon called. "You were too unexperienced and you got possessed! Your old man sent me away, but not before I caused some major damage. Do you think you can do better? Do you think you can save your little boss before I kill her, too? Maybe after I finish with her, I can move on to Spencer."

I stopped and looked at her fearfully. "Stay away from him." I growled before I came to my senses. "You couldn't have done that." I said "I would have remembered." When I continued the spell, she continued talking.

"You remembered. You remembered it all, being a prisoner in your own mind. Can't talk, can't scream when every inch of you feels like it's on fire. John went to a Mage to build a wall, to shut it out. But walls are ever so fragile."

She clicked her fingers and it all came back. I fell to my knees and screamed as the memories were my entire being. She reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Come." She ordered. "Azazel wants to see you."

"Who are you?" I whispered, more afraid than I've ever been.

She smiled at me viciously. "Name's Lilith."

I waited for the pull, for the moment I would be somewhere else, but it did not happen. Instead, to my surprise, Lilith fell on the ground. Behind her stood Garcia, holding a red book, which I assumed she used to knock Lilith off her feet and Hotch, his gun ready to fire if needed. I finished off the exorcism spell and black smoke left Strauss's unconscious body. I crawled to her and checked for pulse. Strong and steady. Only then, I turned my attention back to the two people who stood next to us.

"How much did you see?" I asked.

"Enough." Hotch said. "Will she be alright?"

"She'll live." I replied. "But recovery won't be easy. It's like…" I hesitated, looking for the right word. "Imagine being in a horror movie, through the eyes of the psycho. You are forced to watch, you can't control what your body does, you are in pain and don't even have the privilege to scream. You fight as hard as you can and the demon just laughs."

"Now whatever you imagined," I heard Strauss's voice behind me, "imagine it ten times worst." I looked at her to find a terrified, yet determined, woman. "Agent Chess," she approached me, "I think you have some explaining to do."


	11. Abandoned

**"Death is not the greatest loss in life.  
>The greatest loss is what dies inside while still alive."<br>Tupac Shakur**

Before sitting down and starting to explain the world I grew in to my bosses, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ash. The call transferred to voicemail and I left a message, irritated.

"It's happening again, only this time it wasn't him who came. The name is Lilith. Call me as soon as you hear this."

I put down the phone to see three curious sets of eyes looking at me.

"Again?" Hotch asked. "Do you mean this happened before?"

"The story is far more complicated than we have time for." I said.

"Summarize it." Strauss ordered and I sighed.

"Remember all the things you were afraid of when you were kids?" I asked. "Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, the monster under the bed? It's all real. And so are Demons. And one of them is after me."

"Which one?" Garcia asked, scared.

"His name is Azazel." I said. "As I was growing up, I knew him as Yellow-Eyes. He's the one who killed my mother."

"Yellow-Eyes?"

"Most demons have black eyes." I explained. "Which are the low-Ranked demons. Some have red eyes which are crossroads demons who make deals."

"Deals?" Hotch asked.

"Whatever you like." I said. "From being famous to bringing back people from the dead. The catch in the deal is what you give in return – your soul. Most people don't even know that in ten years' time, they will die and be sent to Hell." I paused for a moment to let what I said sink in and think about whether I should tell them about Hellhounds. "The third kind is high ranked demons. The color in their eyes is different for each. Azazel has yellow eyes."

"Which kind was this one?" Strauss asked.

"I didn't really get a good look, I can't tell for sure."

"But from what you saw?" She asked.

"I only saw a glimpse of it and it was for less than a second," I said carefully, "but I think they were white eyes."

"And did she really…" Garcia tried to find the right word.

"Possessed me? Yes." I said. "She used me to taunt John, that's why he sent me to Bobby's. He realized how dangerous the life is for a child. _Not_ that it stopped him from taking my brothers with him," I added bitterly, "but what's done is done. I didn't even remember it until now."

"So everything your brothers said, about helping people, saving them," Hotch looked at me, "it was all real?"

"Yes." I said. "And in return, they are wanted by the FBI."

Garcia opened her mouth to ask me a question but my phone rang, interrupting the conversation. I put a finger to say, 'one moment', and answered the call.

"Did you find anything?" I asked, knowing it was Ash without even looking.

"Sam disappeared." Ash replied, as serious as I've only heard him a handful of time before. "Dean just called, he said Yellow-Eyes had plans for him."

"Plans?" Panic started rising in my chest. "What plans?"

"I don't know, but I think it has something to do with – oh, no." Ash paused mid-sentence and I felt like my heart is dropping in my chest.

"Something to do with what?" I asked hysterically.

"Babe, I gotta go." Ash said and I held on to the phone like it was a life-savior. "Keep safe and don't do anything stupid."

"What?" I asked. "Ash!" But he already hung up.

"Was it Ash?" Hotch asked.

"Yes." I replied shortly.

"Is he a…" For the second time in a day, Garcia didn't know what term to use and, again, I helped her.

"Hunter?" I asked, laughing dryly despite the cold feeling in my gut. "The Roadhouse is a bar for hunters. And I need to go there, now." I looked at the phone in my hand. "Something's wrong."

"We'll take the plane." Hotch said and Strauss nodded shortly.

I looked between the two of them before finally settling my eyes on Hotch. "You're not coming." I said.

"I'm not letting you go there with no backup." He replied.

"No offense," I said, "but you don't count as backup. You don't know _anything_, you'd only get yourself, and me, killed."

"It's a good thing we have a whole plane-ride for you to teach me, then." He smiled, trying to ease the tension in the room. "It's not like you'd sleep or anything."

"I don't like planes." I said, not sure myself if it was defensive in response to his joke or if it was a way out of bringing him along.

"You need to see the logic, Chessi." Garcia said softly. "It will be faster than driving the Motor all the way to the Roadhouse."

"And you haven't slept since the last case we had, so that makes it about 45 hours straight, if I'm correct." Hotch added. "You are in no state to drive on your own."

"Fine." I shrugged, agreeing for the sole reason of not having any more time to spend on arguing. "But when we get there, I'm the boss and you do as I say."

"Agreed." Hotch said before turning to look at Strauss.

"Wheels up in ten."

* * *

><p>I looked at the wrecks of the place that was like a home to me during my teenage years.<p>

I was going on about 48 hours with no sleep, and it started to take it's toll on me. My movement were slow and my head ached. And so, when I recognized Ash's body, or at least, what was left of it, the grief seemed delayed.

But when it hit, it felt like a punch straight to my stomach. Only ten times worst, because I knew how to take a punch, but nobody ever tells you how to deal with a loss. I fell on my knees and started crying desperately, the cries of someone who lost more than they could bare, and I felt like I was falling apart.

A hand came around me and pulled me into an embrace I melted into instantly, and it took me a while to understand it was Hotch, because nobody else was miles around us other than the broken Roadhouse and all the bodies within.

He led me to the black SUV and opened the door, and I blacked out.

* * *

><p><em>"Come on, already." Dean and I were standing impatiently at the crossroads, waiting for someone to show up. "Show your face, you bitch!<em>

_"Easy, sugar." A woman said, appearing from nowhere. "You'll wake the neighbors."_

A demon? A crossroad demon. No, please no. Please, somebody tell me I'm mistaken.

_"Dean." She continued, walking towards us. "It is so, so good to see you. I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got your family killed, all alone in the world, it's too sweet. Excuse me," she added, "you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you got to stop and smell the roses."_

_"I should send you straight back to hell." Dean growled._

_"Oh, you should." The demon said. "But you won't, and I know why."_

_"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked._

_"Yeah." She replied. "Following in daddy's footsteps, you want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and - Let me guess, you're offering up your own soul?"_

Wait. Is Sam dead? No, Sam can't be dead, he can't. Not… not before I saw him again… before I said goodbye, before I said I'm sorry.

_"There are a hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it." Dean said. "And it's all yours, all you got to do is bring Sam back, give me 10 years. Ten years, and then you come for me."_

_"You must be joking." The demon laughed shortly._

_"That's the same deal you give everybody else." Dean protested._

_"You're not everybody else." She smiled. "Why would I want to give you anything? Just keep your gutter soul. It's too tarnished, anyways."_

_"Nine years." Dean offered._

_"No."_

_"Eight."_

_"You keep going," she said, "I'll keep saying no."_

_"Okay, five years." Dean said desperately. "Five years, and my bill comes due. That's my last offer." His voice trembled. "Five years or no deal."_

_"Then no deal." The demon replied._

_"Fine." Dean said._

_"Fine." The demon said, starting to walk away. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."_

God, if I could kill her that moment.

_"Wait." Dean said._

_"It's a fire sale, and everything must go." The demon whispered. I don't think Dean heard her, but I did. I scream, and shout, and try to tell him she's using him, but I can't. It's worse than being possessed._

_"What do I have to do?" Dean asked._

_"First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turnoff. Look," she looked really worried for a moment and though I knew Dean thinks she means it, I could see she's lying, "I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But, what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a puppy." My heart broke as I thought of Sam's puppy eyes. "You're just too fun to play with." She stopped for a moment. "I'll do it."_

_"You'll bring him back?" Dean asked._

_"I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year and one year only. But," she added when she saw Dean opening his mouth to reply, "Here's the thing. If you try to welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So it's a better deal than your dad ever got." She finished. "What do you say?"_

_Dean looked at her for a moment, thinking about her offer, advantages and disadvantages. But I knew what he would choose. I knew from the instant she said she would bring Sam back. So, I wasn't surprised when he grabbed on to her, and sealed the deal with a kiss._

* * *

><p>I woke up and saw myself not in the field next to the Devil's Gate, but on a plane. Nervousness rose in my gut, but died as soon as I noticed the familiarity of the Virginia airport.<p>

"When did we land?" I asked Hotch, who was sitting in front of me.

"A couple of hours ago." He replied. "I tried to wake you but I gave up." I was quiet for a minute or two until he spoke again. "You had nightmares."

"Did I?" I asked, worried what I revealed while in Dean's consciousness.

"You spoke in your sleep." Hotch said. "You said, 'Don't do it,' and called John once." He looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

"Short version?" I asked. "Sam died. Dean sold his soul to bring him back and only got a year. Together, they went to a place called the Devil's Gate where Yellow-Eyes opened a backdoor to hell and a bunch of demons and souls escaped. John came out and held him while Sam shot him with the Colt – the only gun who could kill him. And then…" I remembered the words John told the boys right before he disappeared.

_Forgive your sister._

"And then I woke up." I finished.

"That was one heck of a dream." Hotch said.

"They're no ordinary dreams." I replied. "It's live feed from Dean. I live through his eyes."

"Is it normal?" Hotch asked. "For people to have dreams like that?"

"What do you think?" I said instead of answering his question.

He stayed quiet for a while before speaking again.

"Jack." He said. "How am I… how can I raise him in a world like that?"

"There is no right way to raise a child, and knowing about the supernatural doesn't help. But, there is a wrong way, and you can avoid it. Start from learning from the mistakes my father did." I told him. "When your kid tells you he's afraid from the monster in the closet, give him a hug. Not a .45."

"John did that?"

"Sammy was nine." I replied. "Let's go." I push myself up from my seat and stretch my soring legs. "There's probably a serial killer to catch somewhere."

* * *

><p>Days went by, case by case, and I couldn't help but notice the changes in atmosphere.<p>

Strauss was avoiding me whenever she could, and even when she couldn't, she wouldn't look me in the eyes. Garcia wanted to know everything I could tell her about the supernatural world, and wouldn't listen to my oaths that she was better off without knowing. And Hotch… I could tell he wanted to ask me a million questions, but he kept them to himself for fear of the answers he might get.

After the hard case involving Frank – the most profiled serial killer – and reaching far too deep into Gideon's life, I walked towards Strauss's office where I know I would find Hotch. I stopped inches from the door, when I realized the topic of the conversation.

"My team?" I heard Hotch ask. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned, and there are very few people he truly trusts."

I dared not breathe because he spoke so calmly and silently I was afraid of missing a word, and though I wasn't keen on eavesdropping, I wondered what I would hear.

"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair."

And it's my fault, for not saving him from Raphael and Charles.

"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team."

I felt my heart sinking in my chest, but the feeling relaxed when I heard him continue.

"She needn't worry." Hotch said. "Every day, agent Jareau files dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

"You know just as well as me, and possibly better, about the life Chess had, and about how it slowly breaks her. Every day, she tries to call her brothers and uncle and they don't pick up, and she doesn't know why. She thinks we don't notice," He said, and something told me he at least suspected I was at the other end of the door, listening, "but I do.

"And agent Gideon, in many ways, is damned by his profound knowledge of others. Which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

"I stand by my actions," Hotch finished, "and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

"Agent Hotchner." I heard Strauss's voice.

"How do I know you favor your son?" Hotch asked, in what I could only assume to be a reference to a different conversation. "I'm good at my job."

I heard footsteps and before I could even think of stepping aside, the door opened and Hotch came out.

"I wanted to invite you for a beer." I said weekly in response to his glare. "I thought you might need it."

"I'd love that," Hotch said, "but I think it would be better if I'd go home to Jack and Hailey."

"I'll walk you to the car." I said, and started walking down by him.

We walked silently, and I thought of Sarah and Rebecca's torn bodies, and something died in me. I've seen werewolves whose victims looked better than that. I thought of Tracy Belle, the young girl who's been through so much already in her short life, and of Jane, who fell in love with a psychopath, and died with him.

"How could he have done this?" I whispered to Hotch. "How could anybody be this cruel?"

"You've dealt with monsters before." Hotch said.

"Not like that." I replied. "The creatures I used to hunt, the creatures my brothers hunt… It's simpler. Black and white. I don't expect them to show humanity because they're not_ human_. You have the victims, you find the monster and you kill it, simple as that. How can somebody become this corrupted and do something like that?"

"You said demons did worse than that." Hotch reflected.

"Demons are souls who were tormented in Hell until no shade of humanity was left." I said. "They were brutally and mercilessly tortured for centuries, to become the shade of a human soul they are. What does a person have to go through to become that while still alive?"

We stood there in silence for a moment before Hotch asked the question I knew was bugging him from the moment Frank jumped in front of the train.

"You said that a hunter's burial is to be burned with salt, so they won't return as spirits." He said. "Can the people we capture…"

"I have a friend." I said. "He knows doctors who work at some ME offices and Death-Rows. The people we hunt, nearly all of them are cremated."

"Nearly?"

"Nobody's perfect." I retorted. "All there is left to do is cross our fingers and hope all will be good."

We reached his car and I turned to walk to Darlin', before changing my mind.

"Hotch?" I asked. "How did you know I'm calling Dean, Sam and Bobby?"

He looked at me with a sad smile, and replied me as he replied Strauss. "I'm good at my job."

* * *

><p>"Hello?" Reid knocked on the cabin's window. "Gideon, are you there?"<p>

"Jason?" I called. "What's going on?"

Reid and I went to the cabin Gideon goes to when he needs to be away from the hideousness of our work, after he didn't arrive to work or answer his phone. It was the first time I had ever been there, but from what I was able to guess, it wasn't supposed to look this deserted. I reached for the handle and to my surprise it opened with no trouble. I walked in and gestured for Reid to follow me.

"The table, Chessi," he said when we were both inside, "look at the table."

There, I can see Gideon's badge and gun, next to a letter written in the familiar, neat handwriting. I look at the headline, reading clearly:

_To Chessi and Spence._

* * *

><p>"It's Bobby." The old voicemail told me. "Don't leave a message."<p>

"Bobby, it's me." I ignored it, knowing he probably stands nearby, listening. "Can you please answer me? Can you… I can't do this alone anymore. Not alone. Jason… Gideon left. He left me a note, Reid and me. I can't read it. I promise I won't try to call Dean and Sam anymore, not if they don't want to talk to me. I promise I won't do anything stupid, just… can you _please_ talk to me?" My voice was choking on tears. "Please? I… I need you, Uncle Bobby, I just need you."

I looked at the clock and saw that my minute is nearly over, and moved to hang up the phone when the cranky voice interrupted me.

"Will you _stop_ calling me uncle?"

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN:**** And we've finished 'An Opening Match'! The next part, 'The Moves of the White Knight' will be published only in two weeks because I'm entering a tests period and wont have the time earlier than that...**

**I wanted to say a big thank you to all of those who:**

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* * *

><p>"Who are you?" I asked.<p>

"Castiel." He replied, leaning in and putting a finger on my forehead.

The pain stopped and when I looked at my arm, I saw the cuts were healed. I stared at him, too tired to be worried, angry or even just curious.

Well, maybe not too tired to be curious.

"_What_ are you?"

Lightening flashed through the windows, showing the out mark of big, black wings on the wall behind him.

"I am an Angel of the Lord."


	12. The Moves of the White Knight

**So I just uploaded the second part of the story, The Moves of the White Knight. **

**URL: **** s/10890260/1/The-Moves-of-the-White-Knight**

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